A delayed flight. A missed train. A dusty tuk-tuk. Nothing stresses me out anymore. I’ve been on the road forever. A lover in every port, they say. No one counts. Not the faces I’ve talked to, nor the beds I’ve slept in, nor the countries I’ve been to. Motion is my compass and the horizon my goal. Even I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow – Bali, Los Angeles or Cape Town – they all lure me. My skin might be sunburnt and full of scars. Ghosts from the past. Still – I’m a classy traveler.
