Dear me,
Sometimes travel is ends. Experiences of people and places. A geography of we to explore.
Sometimes travel is means. Perspectives of self in world. A geography of me to chart.
Sometimes travel is neither means nor ends. Traces of something other than people and places and self. A geography of liminality to contemplate.
Like great art.
Rothko-esque layers through an airplane window.
Like deep love.
Mother's laughter at my silly jokes.