"The most ideal place for me is the one in which it is most natural to live as a foreigner" 

-italo calvino

I find, i cannot ask for much these days..excepting the intensifying soaking up of the sensations around me in the atmosphere. 

maybe in emptiness,.. there is a sense of awe.

in estrangement .. and isolation to the common,.. there is a Holiness that abounds in all of it. and surrounding it.

in the lack of, ..there is a cherishing when the moment placates itself to you, for just that moment.

memories don't become notches in the bark of a traveler's list of things to "do" or experience,

..but it becomes a consecutively, syndicated, cinematic revelation; instigated and replayed over and over again in the haunting moments and hours before drifting off to sleep- it is replayed until it is Everything you wanted to remember it to be.

in each instigation, of the sensation to 'the Memory': 

it is rarefied and taken with you as trinkets of a warming sensation

i can't say i know what it feels like.

but i yearn.

nightly... i have been having recurring visions of this symbolic tunnel i am entering.
it is more like a warp hole or a portal..
i know it is a fortelling of all that i will be entering.
and never being able to look back.

..every time i close my eyes
it's there.
it reappears in tangible levels;
in vibrant and detailed colors each time.

when staring 'into the tunnel, it seems to quake..
for the new.