Every day I watch the fog build up behind the hills; rising up and up into a great, dense wave until it breaks, and crashes down over Twin Peaks into the valleys below.
In many ways I am a homebody. I do like to go out — to eat nice meals prepared by others, listen to live music, watch the world go by, meet up with friends… but I’d almost always rather stay in, have friends over to cook with me, and watch the world go by out my own window. When you’re at home, and its safe and comfortable, the universe outside seems so far away, so much more mysterious and dangerous or elusive than it really it. And then somehow, something or someone encourages you to go out there anyway; take a taxi across town to some place where you know one person, or none; take a plane to country that speaks and behaves differently. And once you do this thing, what’s marvelous, is how easy it actually was to get to this new place. At least, it’s always easier for me in reality than my imagination anticipates. But maybe I’m a glass half full type of person. I can’t promise anything, except that you’ll never know how easy it is, or isn’t, how much you know, or don’t know, unless you do the thing.
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