Lisbon, Berlin, London, Hanover, Amsterdam, Prague, Porto, Hereford, Lille, Nice, Antibes, Juan-les-Pins, Cannes, King’s Lynn, Newcastle upon Tyne, Copenhagen, Recife.

I could riddle you what all these cities have in common, but then I’d have to wait for the answer to write the rest of this entry… These are all cities where I walked. I did other things there, but that’s not important today. I walked. I walked till I dropped. I walked for hours on end, until I had no idea where I was anymore, and didn’t care. Different cities, same walk.

Though I had memorable conversations with family and friends during some of these, most of the time I walked alone. I can’t really say whether that was the reason for walking. I’m sure sometimes it was. Sometimes I walked to shut out the thoughts racing through my mind, a kind of fast-paced tai chi meditation. Other times though, there was such an emptiness inside of me that my legs took up the challenge to get the hell out of there. And sometimes I just walked to see the sights. Maybe I did get a calling to go “walkabout”, and the truth is, whatever the reason, I knew myself a little better every time I came back.

It had been a very long time since I walked around in Lisbon like I did that day. Same walk, different city, it seemed. Nothing changes and yet nothing is the same. Graffitis are recycled from one politician to the next. Groceries, stationers, restaurants and banks have different names and different advertising, but their insides look the same. The people on the street look the same. It reminds me of the quote from the Benjamin Button film. It makes you realize how much you’ve changed.

I got home that day feeling better, or at least, not as disconnected from the world. I cooked a vegetable soup and baked some bread. Home is where you’re at, even if it does feel incomplete at times.

Thanks for your time.