And in that moment she started tucking money
In jars containing wishes she made as a child
So that one day,
She could skip through streets of foreign lands
Swoon in ecstasy at the sight of food
Get drunk on the smell of something new
These feet were meant to wear
Under all that the world had to offer
She wanted to bathe in Cleopatra’s sins,
Mount Napoleon’s horse,
See Shakespeare in action,
And sway to Tchaikovsky
Because 80 days were clearly not adequate
When it came to truly seeing the world.
Bed sheet ripped from the bed, stuffed animals packed, clothes carried and a makeshift bed made in the middle of the living room. The 8 year old me had moved a lot in terms of from the bedroom to the living room in an angry fit, only to shift back within an hour because my mother’s anger was far scary than my own whim of leaving. I guess, you could say that I’ve always had a fleeting heart that refused to stick in one place for too long. This is also kind of why my parents were apprehensive about investing money into my ever changing likes because they only lasted for a few days.
As cheesy as it may sound, my wings have been itching to leave the nest and explore the world and see what it has to offer for me, just me. My heart refuses to believe that Karachi is the only place for me in terms of calling my home. Home is where the heart is and if my heart wants the world, then the world is my home.
When I see backpackers roaming the streets I pay close attention to their eyes. Amongst the tired dark circles lies a specific glow that only belongs to an explorer. Jules Verne holds a special place in my heart because I too want to explore the world and uncover great discoveries. This would be why I want to become an archaeologist because the dirt and mud hold something far more beautiful. One needs to penetrate the surface in order to find true beauty.
A tingle travels from my arms to the rest of my body when I step foot in a new place. History and facts become my best friends and I want to hug them close, take countless pictures, preserve our memories and never let go.
Where did I get my love of travelling from? My parents, probably. Both were travel agents but not as liberal as me. There is a hunger within me. A thirst that can only be quenched if I go on an adventure of my own in a completely new land and walk among the past lives that still continue to stroll the streets.
Consider this my way of exploring and detaching myself from everyday life and living in the shoes of another, who once too only wanted to explore.