London, Paris, all over Austria, Munich, now LA. As I took a train from Vienna to the south of Austria, a Viennese man joined my carriage. We conversed, though we never exchanged names. He assumed I was French and upon discovering I was American, asked what I was doing here, there, everywhere. As I slowly revealed my tales, he said, "You're doing things everyone would like to do but require balls to do." (I was a little taken back/impressed at his effortless use of the word 'balls'.) I thought of his off the cuff statement during the fleeting bumps that followed.
Not yet have I been faced with a hurdle so great that it scares me straight. Rather, each one seems to prepare me for the next. Everything happens so fast, the only thing one simply can do is keep it together. No time for nonsense. I could laugh or cry. And I was hardly about to go for the latter. I can't be discouraged, because where would that leave me? What purpose would that serve? The end of an adventure provokes the inevitable questions. Where next? What draws me there? How can I efficiently use my time wherever I am?
As I perused photos the other day, including the ones above, I became quietly elated. Over the thought of my own adventures. The way they looked visually. How much I've managed to do in such a short time. I may fancy myself an old pro, but its still just the beginning and I know it. A damn good start.