The Americas


Tomorrow I venture off to the United States of America. I will board Sir Richard Branson’s flying bus service and disembark in sunny Los Angeles where my friends are. From there I will travel alone. Like a metropolitan cowboy. A lone ranger with no ranger qualifications. I’m not quite sure where to. I’ll take a bus, train, car, scooter or skateboard into the depths of Middle America with no plan other than to see where the road ends and beyond.

Every now and again I feel I need to take an open-ended trip like this to reboot my mental system. At home, one sometimes falls into a lifestyle of monotonous habit. Familiarity can lull the mind into auto-pilot, set for complacency. Venturing into the relatively unknown forces oneself to amplify the senses and take hold of the controls again.

I’m scheduled to be gone for two and a half months. However, I have this overwhelming visceral sense that I am going to die. Yes die. Not physically, just figuratively. I’m 25-years-old. I’m ready to lay the present Simon to rest and be born into a new me. I’m young and naive and many of my assumptions about the world come from a 13-inch screen and a high-speed internet connection. Just like the cells in our body die and regenerate, so to will my personality. I may not be changed but I will certainly be different. This trip is food for spiritual growth, whatever the term “spiritual” may mean to you. I’m yet to see what it means to me.

I’ll be in touch as usual…maybe.



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