You are a wanderer: an apprentice of the unknown and the undiscovered. You walk with purpose through the fog, through a mission continuously fine-tuned. You leave behind the hopes and expectations of well-meaning, misguided wisdom. Your head-first plunge inward hitches a ride with your galactic travels outward. Your journey from the tip of your toes to the crown of your cabeza equal to the runways of LaGuardia and a Nicaraguan cattle path. You hurt people on this road, leaving them in the dust. You crush a thousand ants with your neanderthal stomps. You evoke the power in others, propelling them up the mountain. You breathe life into the soil with your new breed of farmer. You are a destroyer and a medicine man in the same moment. You emerge from your cocoon as cartographer. Mapping the eloquent sophistication of your life’s topography. You map to the contours created by the choices before you—each infinitely-pronged forks in the road. Your map bleeds onto the atlases of other explorers. Mismatched street grids, yours and theirs, form most unusual intersections where you brush shoulders with these pioneers. Here at the crossroads you share adventures, inspiration, fears and tears and belly laughs. A moment’s pause and then you pack your bags with stories and emotion. You unroll a bit more paper in separate directions. It’s a challenge to sketch away with your dulled pencil. However, you humor yourself for a moment. The earth is round and if you draw long enough you’ll circle back to the same point of place and time. When you come back, you find the dichotomy of your life: everything has changed and nothing has changed. It’s the wonder of a good wander.

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