Are we as human beings not supposed to have expectations?
This is not a rhetorical question.
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Where do we draw the line between having the courage to accept the things we cannot change and the courage to know when to say… fuck that?
Like all things worth writing into the void about, there is no single answer.
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Is the story of our life ours alone? Are we ever fully in control?
Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try and say otherwise.
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So much of how we feel about a place depends on our initial exposure to it. It’s why that place we call “home” will always be special. It will always incite that particular brand of nostalgia — even when we go through phases of hating it. It’s home.
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I missed two today. Two trains. Two. I’m usually a pretty responsible traveler. I like to be early and shit. But the fact is: these sorts of days happen to everyone.
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Routine is like a vitamin. It’s good for you — especially over the long term. Taking Calcium for one day doesn’t strengthen your bones.
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When something you know well changes, it does indeed spur a loss of identity. Sense of self deteriorates. Who am I without this thing? What’s my purpose?
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It’s hard to write about freedom. I think that putting the feeling of freedom into words is impossible. It’s paradoxical. Words are limiting by nature, while freedom is conceptually limitless. Describing freedom puts a cap on it. I’m going to try anyway.
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You know that one overused Instagram audio that goes “Travelers do live with a deep sense of… saudade…”? Yeah, you do. The songs included here are reminiscent of travel in general, or rather, the heightened experience of life it brings forth. They are also personal.
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“Desire is the root of all suffering.” Buddhism has many conceptions. Each one will lead you back to this point in one way or another.
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