The Last Great Adventure

Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. Cornwall? Madagascar? Or we could scale both summits of Kilimanjaro, and build a bridge between them. It’s really not important. What is important is that it’s not here. For here, we both know we’re merely treading water. Life’s being put on hold, and for what? We work for the holidays, but even then, there’s always an end in sight. Travel should be limitless. You should go ‘til you can go no more, and whatever golden place you reach, you then call it home for a while. There was a time when this felt like more than a dream. But then reality intervened. Money and time and promises and commitments. I’ll revolt though. All the tangibles that mean fuck-all will be burned, along with all the bridges, and I’ll become the homeless, penniless wanderer. Care to join? You go one way, I’ll go the other, and we’ll meet on the other side of the world, having lived it all. And by the end, you’ll know who you are, and I’ll know who I am, and for that one moment we’ll both be real.

I'm always five pounds short of the loveliest dream.