Everybody wants to travel when they are stuck in a sad, dull place. I assume.
Most days I find myself alone in my room, lights off; silence deafening yet somehow comforting. I let myself drown in the black hole I created for myself.
Most times I think about why a man plays many roles.
Most times I think about how many friends do I really have – if social media is an indicator — then how many of them have I shared (real) experiences with.
I see pigments of myself from the people I meet. May it be the way the Vietnamese lady happily rides her bike, or the way the vendor carefully arranges my order. Maybe i wished to be that person I just took a photo of. The way I see and define others becomes an extension of self, the ghost of my other selves.
Traveling to Vietnam…
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