Life is a journey, you know? It’s this perfect blend of memories, some so vivid they practically burst with colour, and others, well, let’s just say they’re the kind that make you double-check if you’re still breathing. To me, feeling alive is wrapped up in the tales spun by my journeys.
From almost missing a flight in Heathrow with pockets lighter than air to soaring above the Himalayas, tethered only by a parachute or getting stranded in a pitch-black forest with a flat tire and siblings in tow, from the countless sunsets painted in hues that defy description to just as many sunrises I attempted to witness yet lost to sleep, experiences unfolded like a well-worn map for me and always leave me smiling when I reminisce them.
Despite being a sure shot way to burn through my hard-earned cash, travel has been my constant escape hatch, my hobby, my sidekick and just my favorite pastime. Growing up with parents stationed in different cities, packing up and travelling meant family reunions and left me grinning from ear to ear. As I grew taller and let say, funnier, my journeys evolved from school-sponsored picnics to meticulously planned vacations around the map. Snowy mountains, sun-soaked beaches, family trips, friend getaways, solo adventures – you name it, I’ve probably packed a bag for it.
All these trips left me with stories I can recite over campfires – mishaps turned narratives, the times I laughed until my stomach hurt, the friendships forged in unexpected places, the cultural collisions, and mouthwatering cuisines. Objectively, I can’t pin down what gets one racing, but personally to me feeling alive is undeniably tied to the open road and the adventures that wait around each bend. Even now as I pen-down these words, I ache for another journey, another story.
Blunt Bytes by AI 
Go ahead, judge away!