I love travelling.
If you know me, you know how obsessed I am with speaking about places I'd love to visit, and asking people questions about different places they've visited.
I'm just so curious. I get bored very easily, and I'm consumed with imaging different places I can possibly visit or travel through.
I wanna know how other people in the world live, and I like waking up and not knowing what to expect.
Maybe its all the books I read as a child, and the incredible imagine I had. Perhaps it's all the summers spent travelling to, and then around Egypt ever since I can remember. Or, maybe its all of my father's romanticized, idealized stories (that I can recount by heart) of the whimsical cities he's seen.
I think its a combination of all these and my need to explore what's around me.
I've always thought I was a restless kind of soul, and when you really think about it, don't most of us spend our lives looking for the fulfilling feeling of being home?
I guess that might be what I'm looking for...
(K, fine. I cheated with 2 pictures.)
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