If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my travels this year, it’s this.
It’s not about what you’ve seen or where you’ve been.
It’s about what you thought when you saw it. It’s about how you felt when you got there.
It’s about who you were before that moment, and who you became after it.
It’s about the sudden shift in the earth, the tremor that went through your heart, the inexplicable feeling of being more alive than you were moments ago.
It’s about the light that suddenly brightened up your eyes, or the light that was just as suddenly extinguished from them.
It’s about realizing you’ve changed, or realizing you’re still who you’ve always been.
It’s about motion. It’s about stillness. It’s about the headlong rush into unfamiliar terrain, or the feeling of being the only one left standing in a whirling, swirling world.
It’s about a million different things, or a million different nothings.
But it’s never, never, never about where you’ve been. Because otherwise…what’s the point?
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