They call it "wanderlust", this insatiable desire to explore. And why not?
I am young, I am capricious, I am completely capable of the crafty chicanery I've come to self expect (not to mention self Respect), and I am more than ever ready to roam.
Try this for me will you?
Imagine yourself, if you will, wrapped up warmly and taciturnly tucked into your favorite beach, or book, or brain. The smell is a comfortable and strangely familiar and yet the finger that you can't seem to put on it is delicately tracing a familiar face.
Today she is red headed, green eyes, intoxicating smile. Tomorrow the sinful same. One thing is for sure, without her reticent rhetoric your beaches would be far less sandy, books without chapters, unwrinkled brains.
The assignment is easy, dare to discern.
Exploration, my dear sirs, is the essence of my existence. Without it I am simply a girl with an idea and a suitcase full of words.
Care to explore?
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