people. more and more. they are on the move, with food aplenty and a chance to move about with the low cost of travel, mankind has been living longer, leaving their houses, having kids and making noise on a global scale. a sea of humanity, seeming out of touch with their surroundings, in a state of confusion and frustration, i find myself among them. perhaps one of them as we make our way in the summer traveling of europe in 2019. smells, languages and a riot of sizes and colours overcome me at each airport. carrying with us on our backs and in our arms are our treasures from far away places that mean only something to the ones carrying them. they will fill our closets and shelving spaces at home, acting like trophies in our tours of the world. our prizes for having to endure the pain we are all going through. nobody else cares. 

it will stop i tell myself. if it doesn’t then I will. but then i think of the trips to come, where once again i will clog the system, taking photos of places that have been trampled on and traveled to for too many years. to love travel must require you to also hate it i mumble to myself as i put my head down and hope that the line i am in will move a bit quicker then the ones to my left and right. inhale, exhale, it is all going to be ok. 

a right of passage that means nothing, but staying put is another painful emotion that i wish to escape. the mumbling and insignificant banter of a man who is painfully coming to the terms that the end is approaching and the good times are behind me. or perhaps its simply middle age.