I watched On the Road this week-end, and wanted to pack a bag, just go. I felt the itch crawling up and down my spine. Creative freedom at its maximum. Those boys drove sex, drugs and beats into the gravel cemented streets like hot gum melted in tar. I did not realize the date, 1950. Artistic freedom and exploration came early. I recognized a small piece of me on the journey. The struggle to break free from societal tradition I have no use for. I long to grow, experience, to see. Take to the open road to discover all the things I cannot know. The curious fever, planted perhaps before conception. Drawn west, the beat boys only reinforce the pull. The 90’s were my pinnacle, the height of exploration. Music dominated my world, words, places I visited, which stories to catalogue, which to share. Long before my existence, there was desire. Long after, the insatiable search for truth remains. I’ll go west someday, before I leave this place. Stopping from time to time, to take in earth’s majestic beauty, refuel and recover. The spirit tells me don’t give up. Don’t rest stop too long, ask the questions, challenge the beliefs, embedded. Freedom is the truest form of self-love.

On the road, there is much to discover.