It seems you've found me.

Standing in my urban-worn thrift store find looking boots stirring cheap limp spaghetti in an oh so comfortable round about motion, images and a sense of hope surfaces every part of my mind. Amelie's soundtrack of 'hopeful' childlike piano and ochordian carousel themes skip around my ears and I can't help but have a strong urge to leave. Just pack up my bags and let my 'vintage' boots take me where they please.

...Where would I go?
Paris? Prague? Barcelona?

Though of all the most beautiful and inspirational places on this earth my heart longs for somewhere magical. Somewhere that the sky never touches the earth and the night never seems to have a beginning. This winding road stretches off to meet these two, but I still don't know, where it goes. This is where I belong.

If all of the most magical and mysterious places were to be explored...would there be any left? This 'can of worms' topic is not something I will discuss now-because the answer is a big fat 'no'. But, what is the 'click' of traveling? ...It's as if traveling is a drug that has forever been embedded in your skin after you've already ventured somewhere inspirational and your heart and your mind long for more of this...I want that. It's as though my psyche has already been pre-programmed somehow to have the urge to travel, but my physical self and the life restraints that have been all too present for so long have made it seem impossible to explore the depths of this grand earth.

It's a winding road and I still don't know where it goes.

How long will this replica spaghetti of comfort continue in this fashion and how long until Amelie's music transitions into live strums and key changes from the vendors laying their hearts on the notes for all to hear? How long for the sky to show how it never touches the earth and the night never seems to have a beginning? How long before this winding road which stretches off to meet these two, carries my homebody boots and I off...and how long before these homebody boots of mine click, click, click three times for the all too nostalgic 'no place like home'? 'If there's one thing that I know, it is that two shades of hope. One in that enlightens the soul and the other is more like a hangman's rope-well it's true, you may reap what you sew, but not that the despair is the all time boat...hope deals the hardest blow. And the girl that holds the hand, of a somewhat distance man-though she did everything she can, still this heart sets sail for a distance land, and she wonders sometimes if He knows, how she feels like a trampled rose-hope deals the hardest blow...' but I still don't know, where it goes. This winding road, this never ending sky, these boots full of miles and mystery-This is where I belong.


.homebird.
.the homebird sings.