If I could only make you see, babe,
I ache and pain and bleed,
I know you’d come a runnin;
If you blistered both your feet.
If you could see me here, baby,
Broke out with salty sweat;
No matter where you go I know
You never could forget.
The desert is sprinkled with ghost towns like the night sky is with stars.
There are always things in the buildings, too. Even in the oldest ones there are items left behind; things someone once needed but exfoliated.
Living nomadically is tiring but so is the weight from too many possessions. We stuff ourselves in so tightly here in the U.S. and to what end? To exfoliate is my new favorite verb. It's the new black, as it were.
Freedom of the truest form is a rare and valuable commodity. So many want the perpetual travel lifestyle but so few have the blind faith to actually do it. It's strange, too, because the secret to doing it is to just begin.
Don't get me wrong, it's scary and people won't understand you. Somewhere along the way, though, you lose that fear because the road teaches you that everything will always be fine in the end. And, if it's not fine, it's not the end.
So, begin. Begin getting rid of shit. Begin not taking any anymore. Try a strict one-in-one-out policy for your home and life. Exfoliate regularly. Take photos of things then ditch them. Quit hoardin' shit. Whatever you do, just begin. You'll be amazed at the things you really need in this world.