Two of my best friends on the planet communicated with me today their respective feelings of world-weariness.
I officially became world-weary back in 1997 after almost ten-years of ambitious travel as a photographer.
Funny thing, I am not life-weary at all. Apparently I am more amused by my every day as a salary man in Washington, DC, than my chums are in their respective Tanzanian and Madrid lives.
I think what I realized is that instead of travelling to find myself, which is what I was telling myself, I was travelling to escape myself.
That said, I plant to visit both buddies this Spring.
