In two weeks' time, I'll be off again, crossing continents. Back to what some would call "a home away from home". And I'd have to admit, I feel a bit guilty for feeling so comfortable there. In a place with a totally different culture, standard of living, different accent, weather, shops, currency. And somehow, I found my place there. Sometimes I wonder, what is it that makes me feel that way?

Maybe its the feeling of empowerment and freedom I get, having no one at all telling me to be a version of who they think I should be, instead of helping me discover who I am and fulfilling that. That freedom of expression without fear of judgement. No one really knows me anyway, so what is there to judge? That new slate I get, being in a place where no one knows me. That freedom to recreate myself. That freedom to meet people and know them, their lives, their story and slowly being able to see people as humans and not compartmentalize them as so many of us tend to do. Something I'm slowly learning to let go of.

friendly buskers in Barcelona

fragile art on the streets of Paris

a kind Spanish vendor we met at a flea market

I guess now I understand why people who are described as wise and mature are said to be so because "they've seen the world". I'm not, by any means, anything close to being wise. I'm but a child, still finding my way. But I've been out there, in the cold, fragile beauty of the world and I've learnt lessons I would never experience had I stayed in the comforts of home. And I feel I have a lot more to learn. So much to see, so much to say, so much to do. 

Ah, the restlessness of youth.