Until Valhalla.

I haven’t written in a while… wrote? Fuck it, we will go with written.

Life just takes the wind out of you at times, you don’t know which way is up. But I think I’m grounded now.

Fuck it,

Im going back.

I want to be swept away by someplace I don’t know, ignorant.

Daily life, being a local, seeing the same shit everyday, well, I don’t think it’s for me.

With each aching and growing day I want to be an expatriate.

I need escapism.

Again, like always, I’m my best when I’m away from home. Eating snow and drinking gin, staring at the Mediterranean Sea, wandering a local market in a third world country.

I used to travel as a young boy.

My mother would take me far and wide just for the sake of seeing new things.

Maybe it’s nostalgia that I’m chasing; maybe not. This ever escaping feeling that I wander to find. Maybe I am not chasing anything at all.

Curiosity, it could be that. A curious mind is never satisfied by normality.

I hope the cold winds of the North fix me.

Because I understand the cold, it embraces me like an old lover.

Fuck it,

Take me back.

There is a feeling that travel evokes out of me.

I can remember calling my father from the border of Israel and Egypt after not having phone service for a few days

I told him that the Sinai peninsula was one of the most impactful and picturesque places on earth and I wanted to take him there someday to see it.

I described the night sky with every star waiting to be seen and accounted for, the smoke from a Bedouin man finishing his late night cigarette; one day he’d see.

Soon after I got back to the states my father passed.

I haven’t traveled much since that day.

Yet I still go back to it; sitting on the phone in Eilat, Israel, waiting to board a plane while frantically telling my father how awesome the world is.

Maybe that’s where he is now.

Maybe he is sitting on the Sinai peninsula staring at the stars.

Waiting for me to join him.