When You Feel Just Like A Tourist.

Do you know, I'm moving out in three days. Three small days.

Not just houses, either. No. I'm jumping straight over four provinces to get to the right one. Or, I hope it's the right one, that it's where I'm supposed to be at this point in life.

Truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. It all seems a little silly. Like some joke that just got taken too far. It's terrifying and I question myself, and wonder what a fool I am.

But exciting. Oh it's exciting.

And I've been having such a time exploring this area that I live, as a desperate measure, to see all I can before I can't. I just got back from a two day kayak trip with my best friend. We spent the time hitchhiking around, meeting locals, eating crepes, going to the Saturday Market, visiting her family. And then tenting on a little island, one of the little spits of land that you could walk around in five minutes flat. Our own private island for the night.

When it's time to leave, you know it, because everything and everyone becomes so much more real - and yet, unreal in a sense. You want to touch and see and feel everything because you know soon, oh too soon, it will all just be memory. And I'm trying to leave with the best ones possible.
And I'm succeeding, if time wouldn't keep hurrying me along.

Three days. Three more days.

S.