I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to get the hell out of this town.
I need to travel. I need to feel out of control. I need to move to some distant place that I’ve never been, where no one knows me, and where I can just breathe and be by myself away from everything I know.
It sounds lovely.
So, what’s the plan, Stan? There is none. I’m going to leave it to God. When He decides it’s time, I’m going to pack my bags and go.
And write. Write all the time. And photograph. Photograph everything.