humanity
If nothing else, travel opens your eyes to the colorful quilt that is humankind.
Home (N.)
Home is so much greater than the place you were born in. It’s both the place where you were taken care of and the place that taught you to take care of yourself. Yet, when we’re asked the classic “Where’s home for you?” we immediately spell out our hometowns. This is only natural, as these places are usually also home to our parents, our grandparents, our dogs (or cats, I’m not here to judge) and our childhood friends. But if you’re someone who’s built a life somewhere else, you know deep down that this answer is no longer entirely true.
By Maria Paula Serrano5 years ago in Wander
Plot Twist!!
It Has Been Said That If You Are Not Correcting Your Course Frequently You Aren't Living Life To Its Fullest... I tend to agree. This is why I take these course corrections with a grain of salt and don't let them bother me. I am sometimes completely amazed at how long I will grapple with a decision and the moment I make that decision and feel good about it, something intervenes and forces me to correct my course.
By Dawn Greer5 years ago in Wander
Leap of Faith
I’ve always loved the saying “With great risk comes great reward,” because I fully believe it to be true. You’ve got to make sacrifices to live the life you want, to get the life you want, or to keep the life you want. These sacrifices don’t have to be huge or life-altering, but they do have to prove to the universe that you’re willing to give up a few things for even greater things.
By Naissa Lopez5 years ago in Wander
You Can Never Go Home
Sparrows live here. It stays warm all year, of course, and the crumbs of overpriced food dropped by passing travelers who eat from boredom more than hunger are enough to raise a family on. I know that the birds live here, raising chicks in the steel rafters and shitting on the polished floor, rather than it being a case of a few unlucky individuals getting trapped and lost inside the cavernous space of the airport. Because I’ve seen them before. I’ve been here before. I almost live here myself.
By Ryan Frawley5 years ago in Wander
Crow Call
In the city, you are never in one place at a time; multiple worlds occupy the territory you think of as your own, which you define largely by what you choose not to notice. The corner you stand on waiting for the light to change is entirely different to you, to the potbellied Black businessman at your side, to the cyclist balancing on his pedals at the curb, to the weary bleached blonde woman slumped in the driver's seat, to the homeless man crouching by his ragged blankets in the shade. I once walked along the concrete banks of the Los Angeles River near Long Beach with a friend of mine, also a photographer, and at one point I stood immediately behind her—she was very short—and shot a photo over her head, of distant freeway ramps looping over the water. Our very similar cameras clicked almost simultaneously. The two pictures were so different when we compared them later (this was in the days of film) that they could have been taken a thousand miles apart. Yet we were close friends who discussed our craft endlessly and had similar artistic philosophies. Even in our own little closed-in world, we were worlds apart.
By Richard Risemberg5 years ago in Wander
I'll Move and Start a New Life
My son and daughter-in-law had been after me for years to move from upstate New York to North Carolina. "It's so cold up there," they said. "Things are hopping down here," they said. "You'd find a job in no time, and you'd love the winters."
By Jo An Fox-Wright5 years ago in Wander