To know each other we must reach beyond the sphere of our sense perceptions. We must transmit our intelligence, travel, transport the materials and transfer the energies necessary for our existence. Following this thought we now realize, that which is most desirable, which would be most helpful in the establishment of universal peaceful relations is - the complete ANNIHILATION OF DISTANCE.

I knew this girl who was drowning, town didn’t suit her
She was bound to computers just to make her bread
She would keep her head down though her feelings burned her
Sat around in her bed gown and dreamed of Burma
Alaska, Morocco, Peru and other places
One day she must of upped and packed her suitcases
Leaving no trace, but an overgrown yard
Letterbox full of bills and a trail of postcards…

For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length—and there I travel looking, looking breathlessly.

Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.

The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.

To know each other we must reach beyond the sphere of our sense perceptions. We must transmit our intelligence, travel, transport the materials and transfer the energies necessary for our existence. Following this thought we now realize, forcibly enough to dispense with argument, that of all other conquests of man, without exception, that which is most desirable, which would be most helpful in the establishment of universal peaceful relations is — the complete annihilation of distance.

He woke up, didn’t really know how he got there
Wasn’t too sure why neither
A believer of sorts
Just not too sure what sort of belief to believe in
So when the sun goes down each evening
He looks to the sky for a reason
Wonders what’s behind the horizon
So he packs light and he’s off and he’s leaving

So we walks on looking for something
But just what it is, well he wasn’t too sure
So we walked all day, then he walked all night
Then he walked all year, then he walked some more
Then he…then he stopped
Took a look around to just see where he’d got to
Didn’t recognise the spot so he took it all in
Got his things, and he up and moved on

We roam all over the planet looking for answers
Cross over time zones, connect the dots on the atlas
So as this world keeps turning around on its axis
On we march with itchy feet, there’s always somewhere you could be

So he walked all over the land
Over snow and desert sands
Through valleys and mountains, cities and towns
When he got to the ocean he swam
When it was too far, he learned to fly
Built a set of wings and he took to the sky
So he looked high and low
Trying to find what it’s like on the other side
And everywhere that he went he’d ask people questions
Swapped stories and traded perspectives
Each moving in different directions
Paths on the map just intersecting
And though the names and the faces changed
Some things remained the same
And some spoke with words he couldn’t understand
But some things you don’t need words to say
And then one day, he looks back and sees how far he’s come
All the faces he’s met on the way since he left
From the place that he started from
All living off the food that they learned to grow
And the rules that they learned to know
So he took everything that he’d learned from them
And set off to look for home

Left, right, left, right
Catch me on the next flight
Onward through the dead of night
Searching for a fresh sky
Over land, over sea
The planet never goes to sleep
On we march with itchy feet
There’s always somewhere you could be

He woke up, still didn’t know how he got there
Still wasn’t sure why neither
A believer of sorts
Believes in the faith that he found in the places he’s been in
When the sun goes down each evening
He’s dreaming of somewhere scenic
Behind the horizon there’s a whole world to see
He won’t stop ‘til he’s seen it.

It is not necessarily at home that we best encounter our true selves. The furniture insists that we cannot change because it does not; the domestic setting keeps us tethered to the person we are in ordinary life, but who may not be who we essentially are.

One stop on the way inlcuded / Where her mum and dad were born
Sri Lanka just a postcard til she flew in at dawn
Warmly welcomed by a family she barely met
A visit that was too short, now she’s back up on a jet
Clicked between the channels on her seat, stretched her feet
Got the feeling that freedom was found at 30,000 feet
Fell asleep but woke up to “this is your pilot speaking,
The immigration slips we give you need completing,
Please be seated as the plane descends”, her heart beat
Faster then, thinking about all the adventures in the months
That lay ahead, and below in the snow of Glasgow, she stared…

The world is a book and those who do not travel have read only a single page.