I had an itch that I thought this trip would scratch. Instead, it just spread the disease. From my head to my heart and down to every limb, finger and toe. It is now terminal . The prognosis is positive but I cannot be cured. It has seeped into my blood and clings to my bones. It has been sewn into my spirit and sprinkled onto my soul. While I may not die from it, I will certainly die with it. Unlike most afflictions, I hope this one's contagious. I want to transmit this inquisitive infection and induce discovery. I wish to impart my fever.
This voyage has not satiated my hunger but rather increased my appetite. Though it wet my palette, it has not quenched my thirst. I fear I may be addicted and that I will continue to crave this classification as a traveler, a wayfarer, an adventurer.
I yearn to forever feast on this newness and knowledge. Won't you join me in these appetizers of awareness and
entrées of enlightenment? Can we dine together and itch with the eagerness for insight and exploration?
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