Today I rearranged all the pictures in my cubicle.  This is the first job I’ve ever held, that strapped me down to a desk for 8 hours a day. I get restless. I daydream.  I fall easily into the worlds contained in the postcards tacked above my phone.

Someday I’ll go to those places and I will climb their mountains with my own feet and I will crash, exhausted, into their forests. I will feel welcome and lonely and awestruck.  I will allow them to change me in the subtlest of ways.

And when I return home, I will carry them around with me- the weathered faces of the people, the dialects crashing from their mouths, the customs, at first strange, won’t need translation in my home.

I am looking at Chile today, Ireland tomorrow. I hold stacks of London, of Australia, of South Africa.

Where would you go?