It kills me inside to know that there are places out there, people out there, a life out there, so much simpler and yet richer than this one.
Travel, to me, is a search for the places that you have found only in your imagination. It is a persistent yearning for something more, that feeling of complete happiness and content you find when in the places of your dreams.
One’s happiness is a matter of perspective. It depends on what you are used to making you happy. From childhood it’s the small things – seeing someone else smile, playing in a field. But we are gradually taught by society that we need more and bigger things to make us happy – expensive gifts, designer clothes, upmarket restaurant visits. Until one day we are shaped and moulded into someone who cannot be made happy by the smallest things, such as playing in a field or seeing a stranger smile.
Travel is about taking it back. Going back to the time we were made happy by these small actions or experiences. Travel is about finding that time and that place where you feel the soft breath of air on your face, and seeing the sun begin to rise over the far-off hills, you hear the birds sing as they begin to waken to the dawn, and feeling contented, and happy.
Travel is about living within your own imagination.