Why am I obsessed with venturing out into the world, far from home? Why do I skip breakfast and take extra shifts? People would think I am insane to spend all my money just to see an unusual structure in Central America, or a piece of art in France. I can’t tell them that I am sane, or argue that I am completely normal. However, when I visit these far off places, a story comes to life. To see a piece of art again and again in books and on TV, fails to satisfy me. When you walk through the halls of the Louvre and discover the Mona Lisa, or walk the sacred ground beneath the beautiful Sistine chapel, that's when it all makes sense. At that moment, your heart slows down, the beating is almost hypnotic. Your soul begins to swell up like a balloon, and life begins. Only when one travels, can they feel like they are living.
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