There’s no point to any of this. It’s just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know…a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moments where your laughter becomes a cackle; and I, I sit back and smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.
Foreign lands never yield their secrets to a traveller. The best they offer are tantalising snippets, just enough to inflame the imagination. The secrets they do reveal are your own - the ones you have kept from yourself. And this is reason enough to travel, to leave home.
You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score.
You have to pay your own electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth. But that’s all.