With each temporary departure from a culture of media — one of timeliness and overtime, of texting and collective avoidance of face-to-face communication— and with each subsequent return, I taunt the imprisoned spirit we’ve each caged, one handed down in blood since time immemorial. With each journey: a bloom of color flourishing amidst nature, primal living, and daily reflection. With each journey’s end: a doused flame, the resuming decay of childlike wonder. And as the cycle begins anew, an ever-stronger call to return, lest our spirits wither.

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In an effort to make these posts remotely interesting, I’ve extracted some bits from the journal I wrote while traveling, and filled in some gaps.

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In an effort to make these posts remotely interesting, I’ve extracted some bits from the journal I wrote while traveling, and filled in some gaps.

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Tomorrow evening I fly first to Los Angeles, then to Sydney, Australia, and finally to Denpasar, Bali. I’ll be there about a week, then another half week in Sydney before I fly back to Frisco. Don’t expect to see me writing here, but I’ll be wandering through rice fields, walking up volcanoes, diving off the Amed coast and writing in each spare moment. Aku cinta kamu.

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This path you walk down—
You: the proprietor of limitless wonder,
Blind of ambition, interest unbound—
Seeks always to tear curiosity asunder.

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