I’ve been dreaming of far-off lands of late.
Of living off the belongings that can be carried in aÂ 50 litre pack. Or less.
Of freezing hands, warm sun and smells to reawaken my senses.
Of course, I’d also need some sort of facility in which I was able to ensure I maintained a clean head of hair, a mostly-full belly, and the means to secure a ticket back home again any time I so desired.
And a travelling buddy that wouldn’t get sick of me.
Oh, and a sturdy pair of shoes to walk in so I wouldn’t be caught with my soles flapping in the (brisk) wind when standing atop a fortress with vistas of Osaka city in the distance.
A clean hotel room to head back to and the promise of a hot shower wouldn’t go amiss either.
These days, my daydreams are peppered with a persistent sense of pragmatism.