I was born and raised in this town. For eighteen years I’ve lived in this place. And you know what? Most of the time, that was perfectly fine. But some days I long for something different. Something more. Like the birds migrating south for winter, drawn by some untouchable force of instinct. Those days I get homesick for places I’ve never been.
Places with rolling hills. Great stretches of green speckled with clumps of trees and bushes just large enough to hide a rabbit hole. Or perhaps a mountain range. Ominous spikes of rock splitting the clouds, peaking like floating islands. Or maybe forests of every tree imaginable, like ever growing arms grasping for the sky. Even for castles with hidden chambers, underground tunnels and secret passages.
I long for a break in my routine. This mundane life. The everyday grind.
I want to search for the most isolated places on earth and simply sit in silence. Meditating. Then stand on the streets of the busiest cities and sing til my lungs burst, dancing with every person that passes me.
I have experienced all this town has to offer. I long for the adventures that can’t be fulfilled here. I miss the places I have yet to see but for snapshots in my mind as though from another lifetime.
Lives from decades, centuries, millennia before my time. When I was royalty, servant, leader, and follower. When I was pioneer, inventor, gypsy.
These reincarnations left me treasures I’ve already seen. Treasures I need to rediscover. Treasures I long to relive.