There is something in the visual of the convergence of the setting sun with the sea – the foray of ravishing tints that it lends to the sky. The idea of life after horizon that it builds.
There is something about the effusion of the cool wind, against the warmth of your flushed cheeks; the steady pump of adrenaline, that makes you feel invincible. It has the tendency to make, even the most unbending hearts, euphoric; the strength to disarm the most fortified bosom.
Having no home, the chance to explore the length and breadth of the earth, is paradise for every person seeking insurmountable satisfaction from the glory of the un-envisioned future. It is the ultimate escape for so many eager dreamers.
There is a certain edge that a bohemian life will always have over the conventional conformist lifestyle that most people tend to settle for, consumed by the fear of the unknown. But it is this fear itself that gives an inexplicable high to hipsters.
And yet there is danger in such a life; danger that caresses the traveler bone in us. An interesting, impending unknown that makes it the Great Perhaps.
I want to see the world, follow a map to its edges; just keep going. Forgo the plans. Trust my instincts. Let curiosity guide me. I want to learn the earth, the hard way and live to tell about it. I want to change hemispheres. Sleep with unfamiliar stars, where the beat of my heart is the only acquainted sound. I want to let the journey unfold before me.
And yet, here I am, a spirit of a gypsy, confined within the heart of a settled nomad.