i once went to sicily and climbed mount etna. it’s the largest volcano in europe. today i went to work. a few years ago i went to a lot of parties. last year i went on a lot of dates. i don’t negate the fact that time is moving forward and that when man does the remarkable thing of moving forward in both time and space, that it is an accomplishment difficult to depreciate - but the idea of one existing based on the places he’s been leaves something to be desired in my mind. yes. i would like to travel - see the world, have the experiences. but summations of ‘where you went’ leave me lost and disappointed. i shouldn’t have gone. i couldn’t have gone. i did go. i didn’t. i went away. away. when is ‘coming back?’ what does that mean? what does life look like if you evaluate it on returns and not sojourns? i know it’s not as flashy, but i am proud of the things i return to - the things that are followed through. ‘returning’ has a sense of humility that ‘going’ does not. and it’s always more comforting. and yet more dangerous.

be impressed that i went to etna. think more of the fact that i came back.