Give me a backpack for a house and a good pair of hiking boot wings, and I'll be happy with the sunshine and the starlight. Give me a blank book and a properly weighted pen, and I'll entertain myself for days. Street food and the odd wild blackberry and my belly's glad, as long as there are noodles somewhere in it's future. And it turns out a rolled up tarp or nearly empty laundry bag makes a fine pillow.
All the world is a bowl of pleasure and care, and there is still nothing so fine, precious or incomparable as watching the sunrise in the park you have loved since childhood, the gold light of late Wisconsin summer, and warm freshpicked tomato sandwiches with cheese from folks who kiss your cheeks at the farmer's market.
The road is huge and beautiful, and home is always at its end.
