A poem in two parts. ''Travel = Movement/Time'' by LozInTransit

'Travel = Movement/Time'

Travel
Traveling is living the dream,
and like a dream every moment is a bubble.
Each with its own fragile beauty,
A light air that can vanish in an instant.

A new day offers a new home. New moments with new friends.
But a moment has no constant measure.
Minutes with good company could linger more than months in a great country.
No equation of words and numbers can explain it.

To live well one should enjoy the wonder of each moment.
For like a bubble, trying to contain it would be the surest way to lose it.
Over time, our moments become memories.
And longer still our memories turn into madness.

Movement over Time
Living in our dreams would be a beautiful insanity.
Its a rapid movement of oneself without having gone anywhere at all.
We take comfort in the pillows we've laid.
But they can suffocate us if the hands of time get a hold of them.
Once we allow it, the strike of every minute can be cause for great alarm.
Then we might stir. Then we might moan.
Or perhaps we awaken and begin to move once more.

Allora, I am in Venezia now.
You do a lot of thinking traveling alone. Most of that has been digested through conversation with others. Its good to know I can still get pregnant with ideas considering its been a while since I left design but of course that doesn't mean I haven't been fucking with my head.

Some of the inspiration for writing this probably goes to a Punk Rock scribe (dissentinpenmanship.com) from B-More. We hung out in Firenze and Roma. His faith in the power of writing made me believe in it too. But the credit is shared to all the wonderful locals and travelers I've met and the loved ones at home who I carry with me.

Though I've only been gone for a month. I feel like I've been traveling for years. You can travel with your mind or your feet. Both are rewarding, but traveling with your feet gets noticed more so you feel cooler.

The last few weeks of connections and activity have been fun. Ditto for the 2010 Preseason. Here in Venezia, making my first return visit after having 2 brief, enjoyable nights I will be staying put for a little while. These poems were created on a day where I did mostly nothing, waiting/working.

The first time in these months of 'travel' where I was content to do nothing. No pressure to maximize the day. Breathing easy, Living simply which ironically gave it even more value.

Ciao Ciao