She was unlike anything I had ever seen. I will never forget how it felt like to be swallowed in her presence as she welcomed me with open arms. Her grandness made me feel small. I breathed in as much of her familiar scent as I could take in. She looked magnificent; tall and proud, she gazed down at me, the corners of her mouth curling into a pleasant smile. She held my childhood in her hands and my fate in her heart.
I read a quote a little while back that summed up why I find such comfort in travelling. It goes like this: “Not all those who wander are lost.” For the past couple of weeks since I’ve been back from Cuba, I’ve been trying to outline what it is that makes me so liberated when I’m away. What is it that I can’t seem to find here in my daily life that is so emphasized when I am on different soil?