i think i am going to finally succeed in making a habit of this whole blogging thing.
last night i finished one (fictional) journey and began another (yet, still fictional). one ended in an abandoned bus in Alaska, and the second began in the backyard of a modest London home. during these two journeys, i have experienced American landscapes that many eyes (likely including my own) will never see and i have experienced worlds that no human will know in this lifetime, but that may be out there waiting on us.
it's amazing what words written by someone else can do for a person. through the past 400ish pages, i have learned a lot about myself. i have learned that i am capable of viewing the world in a different way than i used to. i have learned that i can appreciate the little things. i have learned that i am content to sit alone for a few hours. i have learned that what i want more than a lot of things is just to see things that few other people have seen-to have experiences in common with some but not all.
i think most of all i want to live a simpler, but somehow more profound life. and i will make it my own journey to get there.
come with me?
it's amazing what words written by someone else can do for a person. through the past 400ish pages, i have learned a lot about myself. i have learned that i am capable of viewing the world in a different way than i used to. i have learned that i can appreciate the little things. i have learned that i am content to sit alone for a few hours. i have learned that what i want more than a lot of things is just to see things that few other people have seen-to have experiences in common with some but not all.
i think most of all i want to live a simpler, but somehow more profound life. and i will make it my own journey to get there.
come with me?
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