an ode to lost travels
I never lived in airports—I wasn’t the dad who left every other week on business trips. But I’d typically get to travel the world once or twice a year, sometimes more and sometimes less. I’d meet old friends and make new ones, absorb strange rooms and spaces, feed my eyes.
Shift my mind to different regions of the soul…
These objects are artifacts now.
Symbols of another life.
Talismans on standby.
