There’s something about arriving in new cities, wandering empty streets with no destination. I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.
You need mountains, long staircases don't make good hikers.
Here's another poem, like all others before and after, dedicated to you. There isn't anything left to be said but I will spend my life trying to put you into words. You who is every goodness, every optimism and hope. Your love is a better fate for me than anything I could wish for. If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part. And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination. But I’ve become a weary traveller, so please, let us never be apart.
The best traveler is one without a camera.