

In a daze after 20 hours of travel, I stare at my living room. Who lives here? So many places full of people living out their lives...working, loving, eating, dying.
Why am I here and not there, or over there? My belly is full, my house is warm. Clean water comes out of my faucets. I take these things for granted.
To travel is to die a little. I give up my daily routines, the little things that build my day minute by minute. The newspaper, the e-mail, the movie, the coffee, the pillow, the politics. I think this is good for me; I see differently, if only for a while. My thoughts are less black & white, less us and them. My world is bigger.