on solo travel

I hadn’t solo traveled in a little while and I forgot how loud my inner world gets when I do.

I’ve been thinking about kids, and how I wish people would stop dismissing not wanting them as something childish we’ll surely grow out of.

I’ve been thinking about religion, and how as long as most people believe god, whatever form it has, to be a specific gender, equality doesn’t stand a chance.

I’ve been thinking about mental illness in people you love, and how the pain they cause unintentionally is not something we have to accept. But the line between keeping them at a safe distance for our mental health and keeping them close for their happiness is a hard one to walk.

I’ve been thinking about preservation and reverence towards history to the point of limiting access to it. The Sistine Chapel was built and painted to be a place of prayer, a place to be used. Now I sit in a crowd while the tourist next to me tries desperately to sneak a photo past the numerous guards.

These are silent questions without answers, threads of thought winding through my mind as strands of handmade pasta twist around the tines of my fork.