The Internal Festival of Dreams

Today I'm in the grasp of a need for travelling.  
Not just travelling to the next city, but TRAVELLING.

Dear Reader, you must understand that I dearly love and adore my children, but I so wish that I saw more of this earth when I was younger and bolder and more free to come and go as I pleased, unchained by mortgages and taxes and the need to create a steady base for boys.

That I wish I had the guts to go to India for a year and live in an ashram.
That I had swum in Lake Titicaca.
That I had visited Moscow and Zanzibar.
Fear of the unknown is a nasty thing.


Pleasepleaseplease let me win the lottery because I need to live in that ashram and swim in Titicaca and stroll through the streets of Moscow while thinking of my time on the white beaches of Zanzibar.
Before I'm a pensioner (and at the Dutch government's current rate, that will only be when I'm 70).

And it annoys me that money is the only thing separating me from this dream.  
Sigh.


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