wander

I took a walk down the street for about 20 minutes the other day to see what was around. People at my school think that I’m brave because I walk in the city alone. I don’t think anything of it. I just like to walk around.

I almost caught a bus to the flower market yesterday before I remembered that I had coconut sitting in my car and I had no way to getting back home.

Always on foot in comfortable boots

With no particular place to go
Where do we go from here? Which is the way that’s clear?
Walkin’ after midnight, searching for you

Just before it rains, so you can smell the storm coming

On empty city streets just before dawn
On rocky beaches right around sunset

Through bookstores
Past coffee houses
Over bridges
Under freeways

Mind free to roam

That’s how I do it

you know. you know that love for the road. the wind in your hair and the crisp fall scent filling you up with a million destinations. what is the point of living if you aren’t seeing it all?

i need to be right there with it.
right there.

there, in that crappy apartment in new york city, frequenting the underground poet havens and living on the smallest salary [but what do you expect as a taxi driver]

there, happy in the summer’s own venice… dirty and slowly sinking into the sea [aren’t we all?]. yes its a tourist trap, but theres a difference between sleeping in a hotel suite and sleeping, happy and poor, in the hotel’s doorway.

there, in the beat sects of paris, 3 and 11, where the new age artists and bohemians wander the streets, leaving no traces behind them. in smoky poetry cafes, small french markets, a rented room with no hot water.

this is the ideal life. wanderlust, indeed.