Even if you catch it behind a garage, a sunset is still gonna blow your mind.

Now, not all things in life have a logic. Not all feelings in your mind have an explanation. Not all people have a reason to be a certain way. If you asked a hopelessly romantic teenage lover girl, why on earth she would give up her entire being for a man she loved, she probably wouldn’t have a reason any more than the fact that she just loved him. She loved him. Period. That was reason enough for her love. There, justified, certified and signed.  I think we all are like her in some way or another. We grow up, yes, to strong, mature, bright adults but keep a little bit of that girl inside our heart. We remain crazy about something. We long for something for years and years. We give up on all practical science for a delusional belief that no one in this world can understand but us. Because we simply love something. A lot of love without a reason. That’s how love should be; without reasons, without boundaries. And as I have learnt, nothing in life must seem more important than that random, irrational, senseless share of love. I’ve been looking for MY random, irrational, stupid love for a long time and I think after years of trying tads of this and that, I have it figured. It’s travelling. It’s one experience that I fall in love with again and again despite coming back many times with bruised knees or sleepless nights or irreparable tan. It doesn’t always treat me so well but nothing in this world gets me more delighted than a novel place of beauty. It’s a companion who has never let me down. It’s the only place I could hide under when the world gets shaking underneath. I could go, sit in the woods and go over my life for hours with no one around, or I could go, feel the water in my ankles and deal with the cold replies life throws, or I could sit by a dock, swallow the emptiness and accept that mom is gone, or I could simply lose myself to the frenzy and the laughter of a wonder obsessed crowd and leave the world behind, loneliness et all. I could just go, some place, any place. That will do.  Travelling, I figure, is truly the true love of my life.

 

'That's because true travel, the kind with no predetermined end, is one of the most selfish endeavors we can possibly undertake-an act in which we focus solely on our own fulfillment, with little regard to those we leave behind.'

                     - Stephanie Elizondo Griest, author