Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
For myself I am too heavy, and for you too light.
And when I said here, I meant elsewhere—I meant moving.
Idra Novey, “Into the Atacama” (via differenceetrepetition)