The sun is gleaming through the palm trees, I’m riding alongside the ocean, the orange sky as my canopy. What a way to say goodbye to this cherished place I’ve taken for my own, a place I call home even with these restless bones.
The southern winds pushing me onward toward my journey, the new adventures that await. This feels right, even with the tug of nostalgia filling my chest, a montage of memories in my head.
This is my purpose, my path in life. I hate goodbyes, but I don’t see this as such, because those who I’ve met, who have touched my heart in someway, will stay there even after I’m long gone from this place.
Life is such a beautiful art, with its stops and starts, passing glances and what ifs that fade away as the sun descends its last rays.
The man next to me sips on his Corona, in his own space, drawing from a vivid imagination that consumes his focus as we pull into another station. We’re all in our own space, yet connected through our graceful humanity, our innocent fallacies that make us kindred souls as we tackle our independent goals.
The train stops, last call, end of the line. But this ending is my beginning, so I’m going to take it and run into the arms of a soulful passion that is all my own. That is my journey to travel.
I’m finally ready to start.
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