I travel best on winding back roads, destination as yet unknown, the journey itself being an end in its own right.
We crest a hill only to see the road still meandering across a green valley and disappearing into the far horizon. It beckons us with promises of an enchanted land that could be as near as just around the next bend or as far away as tomorrow.
I shun the busy highways, all business minded and goal oriented. I have never been one to set goals, Those goals can create tunnel vision so that we miss the wonders of the moment and the sheer joy of just being alive in this moment.
I travel best when I can drift along like a slow moving cloud on a summer day. I travel best when I can pause to inhale the fragrance of meadow grass and the scent of rain.
People ask me where did you go and I say just over the hills and far away.
Well then, what did you see that was memorable and I tell them that I saw sun light and shadows and birds in a tree.
I saw colors for which I have no name and smelled the scent of violets in the rain whether it be ever so brief or a journey of many hours. I travel best on the roads that time forgot, the little roads bypassed by the rush of the modern world. These are the roads where yesterday and tomorrow meet and call themselves today.
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