I ponder this, as I sit squashed in with some 180 people on a plane high up in the air on my way to Nicaragua: Why this desire to travel to far-flung places?
All of my needs, according to Maslow's pyramid, are filled to one extent or another.
I don't even travel to "get away" from the mundane or the stressful as many (most?) people do.
But I have this creature living inside of me that needs to be fed, seemingly and slightly alarmingly, on a regular basis. It's a curiosity that needs to be stilled. I need to learn. To stretch the limits of my comfort zone. To see what's on the horizon. I'll keep going until I get there.
The world is my oyster.
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