That’s why I travel. Because sometimes, without even a penny in my pocket, I find myself eating a Michelin-starred meal in Paris. Because sometimes, even in a city I’ve seen in the movies a thousand times before, I find more beauty than I ever realized was out there. Because sometimes, there’s a city that makes me believe in Man.
I felt awkward asking my boyfriend to pose, vain for getting him to take my picture in an alpine meadow, silly as I photographed oranges at an Okanagan fruit stand while the jolly stall owner laughed at my fumbled attempt to capture the everyday.
He thrusts the beaker and biscuit through the window and walks away. I sit up under the duvet, take a sip of hot weak tea and wonder about what he sees – pink dressing gown, crumbs, pale face. He doesn’t see a wilderness explorer at all, does he? Just a kook, a weirdo, a strange young woman sleeping in the back of her car on a lonesome road.