I think of the places I’ve never seen: the soft shadows of Paris at night, the gentle lull of Greek oceans, the laughter in Scottish pubs, the lullaby-language of Spain. It grips at my heart like a lover I have never kissed for when I look out my window at flat land and cows in mud, I yearn for something greater, something beautiful and enchanting. I wonder what I am doing here in a barren land of constricting patterns, and my hands itch and twitch to grab hold of the charm of those lands I’ve never tasted.
