Sunday, July 8, 2012

I love travelling. I love the feeling of new worlds placed side by side in my mind. I am the constant that exists, walking down new streets, resting my eyes on the configurations of buildings spread out across varying widths of streets, sitting on bus seats patterned within varying fades of colors. If it makes any sense at all, I watch myself travel. I feel like a character out of Motorcycle Diaries, filming my own adventures in my memory. If one man's travel can be made special, into a film, so can mine. 

I saw an art piece recently, where an undocumented mother holding a child says, "You travelled around Europe and they called  you adventurous. I crossed the border with my child and they called me a criminal."

Adventurous traveller. Criminal. Adventurous traveller. Law breaker. Adventurous traveller.

Such powerful distinctions.

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