“no·mad (nmd) n. 1. A member of a group of people who have no fixed home and move according to the seasons from place to place in search of food, water, and grazing land. 2. A person with no fixed residence who roams about; a wanderer.”
Such an interesting word to describe ones’ desire of wanderment. To explore with a backpack and see and do what can be seen and done.
It probably comes down to the core of maybe I am just a nomadic soul. I don’t like to just start put. To be defined by others and things or places. Rather, they just become a part of the whole. I doubt I am the type to search for food, water and grazing land, since, lets’ face it, I am adventurous and all, and did consider becoming a farmer when I came back from England, but herding animals is too scary. Not my cup of tea, nope. Now to be a person that roams, a wanderer, I like the sound of that. It speaks to me of sorts. I don’t like to be bound, either physically or emotional. I’m not saying I am a bad friend, after all what is Whatsapp, Facebook and all that social media for, but bound in the sense that there can only be one way. One way to lead. One place to lead it. It seems restrictive and unfair almost. Why would this magnificent Earth be so amazing in all its wonders, and I choose to stay in one place. I’m sure you ask the pigeons the same question, but I think they are bound my migratory, geography and biological matters to really decide where they want to live. Maybe this aspect of studying abroad was so thrilling, I was responsible for my own and if that meant walking the streets of Strasbourg, then that’s what I did. The thrill of getting on a train and just going where it leads, it’s so intoxicating. Now to be ‘stuck’ (such bad choice of words, it makes it seem as if I’m such an ungrateful brat) in a snow filled land knowing that the direction I am headed means setting my roots, kinda sucks.
But the story is not over yet, so lets see.
Lovely picture! :)
Check out the dancing orange !