My South American sojourn is over. I’m back home in Melbourne, but it feels as if I’ve left something of me behind out there; like a legacy.
You see, the way I look at traveling, as you go around, staying in places and meeting people, you are creating little worlds; worlds which only exist for a short while, like a Broadway show, when you are at a certain place and with certain people, and in each one of them, you leave a bit of you.
Those worlds were, of course, not only mine, but many’s. They belonged to, and were created, by all the people who were there. Every word that was spoken, every hand shaken, every step taken, every joke and every friendly poke which made our world whole.
And the nostalgic bit of truth is that those worlds will never again be; for the actors have left the stage, scattered around the globe like seeds o a dandelion in the wind. But I find comfort in the knowledge that where they land, newer worlds will still grow.
And what of the stages, those incredible places I saw? Although I will miss them dearly, I should think that going back to them ain’t a good idea; for you can never recreate the magic of a first visit. To me, they are now empty façades, their souls which I once knew having moved on long ago.
I will miss those worlds, but perhaps what I will miss the most is the person I used to be at that particular time. For even if the stage and the actors were all to somehow magically come together, I don’t suppose I can be the person I were back then ever again.
For if I were still the same person, then what the hell would be the point in traveling?