So, you want to be a travel writer, do you? To remember the smells of the trains, the details of the faces, the emotion that sparked from the touch of a beautiful stranger. You want to get intentionally lost and unearth something great. You want to forget time and date and the notion of space.
Do you also want to feel off balance? To question your self-worth and be lost in translation or unsure of your purpose for traversing the world. Do you want to wonder whether what you're doing is right or wrong? Do you want to follow the dirt path to desolation for hours and hours?
At some point you'll find a canyon that is infinitely dark and vast - its shadows haunting as you peer over the ledge. The rocks crumble from the Earth into tiny bits and tumble into emptiness. They cripple in a downwards spiral until not a sight or speck or sound is left. You're alone, paralyzed in fear. It's suicidal -- a dance with devil -- but standing at the edge of the ridge, with the bright stars above, there's an energy that is wildly alive.
Would you jump if you didn't know where you'd land?
Would you still write?
Young and free soul, you want to be a travel writer, do you? Do you also want to pay the bills and enjoy *luxuries in life?
You must find pleasure in simple and organic luxuries, young and naive soul. You must feel gratification from a stranger’s kindness and the knowing that you’re on the cusp of doing something worthwhile. You must love the intrigue of the unknown and unfamiliar. You must be fascinated by the lessons of the imaginative lives before us -- of the Wildes and of the Kerouacs. There is hidden magic in their stories, wouldn’t you agree?
You want your words to change the world, too, do you?
Go to the ledge of the canyon and then walk the foreign perimeter. Study its landscape: down the shaky crevasce and up the unbeaten path. Search and question; be awed and be humbled. You will certainly grow rich with life, young travel writer.
*open to interpretation