At the moment, there is nothing I crave more than to travel. And the desire to see the different parts of our planet actually causes me a physical pain in my chest
It doesn’t even has to be the world, just crossing a few borders around and seek for adventures would be enough.
I want to spend a late afternoon at Montmartre in Paris, with the sun rich and heavy, admiring the art of unknown artists and re-reading Patrick Süskind’s “Perfume”, sitting on the steps in front of Sacré-Cœur and taking in the sight of the city as a whole.
I want to go back to London to sit at Trafalgar Square and listen to the best street band I have ever seen, to spend hours and hours at Camden Market and find beautiful vinyls in old record stores.
Let me visit Amsterdam another time because my heart will never grow tired of this place with its canals that resemble a net of veins, pumping art through the whole city.
I want to spend more hours at the Van Gogh Museum, sitting in front of the Almond Blossoms and getting inspired.
But most of all, more than anything, I want be by the sea, breathing in the heavy scent of salty water and wet sand, reading crime novels and writing poetry, the infinity of the ocean reminding my that I am, in fact, free.
That somehow, my wish to travel and escape everything else will always work out in the end.