Crossing Continents

No doubt Istanbul is beautiful. The seagulls soaring above the boat as we cross continents—it’s magnificent! It’s just that the planet is too big, and I need to keep moving. I don't think I have enough time to waste in familiar places, seeing the same people, getting drunk, and walking the same streets back to a place I barely call home.

Home doesn't lie at any of the ends I look for. In fact, I'm not after any ends at all. I'm just happy to be a part of the flow, to go with the flow...

My existence does not have a purpose. It does not need one. All I need is to be free, and I'm willing to accept the consequences.

Every scenario is possible; there is no such thing as less or more risk. Risk is always there. Risk is just what we choose to call fear—fear of the unknown. As if we could ever truly know anything anyway.

It is when you realize how different things are, yet how similar they can be at opposite ends of the world, that you understand why leaving is not at all riskier than staying.

An obsession with the familiar and the presumably "known," rather than seeking the hidden unknown—why would anyone make such a choice?Would you go for a single color when you can have the entire rainbow? I don't think so.