I think perhaps I am a modern nomad, though I must disclose that I might fall short, because a true nomad probably wouldn’t leave their belongings in storage units or boxed up in their mom’s garage. And it seems I must be a confused one as well. The Elk come down into the valleys in the winter to escape the harsh weather, but it seems a stupid migration strategy to spend winters where it is icy and cold, and summers where it is hot and dry. Or to move around so much at all. Sometimes, I’m afraid I’ve lost my bearings on life and find myself spinning in place until I get dizzy and fall over.
So now I have a new excuse to blog again. I’ve been fighting it since I came back from Morocco, and though I understand my desire to write, I couldn’t reconcile my need to post it. Some vain hope that someone would find it interesting.
I'm so glad you decided to share your journeys through your writing--it's a wonderful way to learn what you are experiencing through your eyes. I've just returned to Boulder and Misra recently told me you were in the West Bank: had to check out if you were leaving a word trail behind. Look forward to reading more as your journey continues and increases in its many faceted stories. Be well, Cailin
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