Delay and dirt are the realities of the most rewarding travel.
I think that love isn't what you think it is when you're in your twenties or even thirties.
There's a lot of sensuality that I associate with travel. And that's romance.
I don't want to be the honored guest. I want to be the invisible person.
Anything is possible on a train: a great meal, a binge, a visit from card players, an intrigue, a good night's sleep, and strangers' monologues framed like Russian short stories.
My love for traveling to islands amounts to a pathological condition known as nesomania, an obsession with islands. This craze seems reasonable to me, because islands are small self-contained worlds that can help us understand larger ones.