life is just one big series of choices.
when i’m on the road, i know there will come a time when i’m staring sleeplessly up at a cracked ceiling asking,
“how did the culmination of my choices all end up in this shitty hostel?”
and i laugh. because even in that sort of humid, self-inflicted misery, it’s better than an office.
maybe travelers are existential addicts.
“why are we here? what are we doing? who am i?”
“well, let’s go find out. in central america!”, is what we say back.
costa rica, nicaragua, panama. they got all my questions this round.
and i don’t even know what to say about it yet.
i’m back, that’s about all i can conclude. that’s about all my brain can put on the shelf without tipping it one way or the other.
so we’ll see.
but for now, it’s good to be back here. to write.
thanks for reading this, more to come.