Anyone who travels has a hunger for meaning and is not satisfied by what already exists. Anyone who travels hopes that something will be waiting for him on the other side of the next hill.

The desire for the unknown, for the open, and the tugging ache that seizes the soul when it longs for its home, its birthplace, for tranquillity and eternity.

Then the desire to interrupt one’s life “here” in order to continue it “there”. The beguiling self-delusion that “there” one is a completely different person, somehow more real, more genuine.