The delicious idea of travel keeps tempting me for a taste. Mildly jealous of free-spirited jet-setters, who seem to have no strings pulling them back to sane grounds. I would like to break away, at least for awhile, and be my own pilot; fly off to insane places. Egypt, perhaps?

They keep telling me: there’s always a time and place for everything.

I mean, come on. I get told that a lot. But am I the type to heed a ‘typically sound’ advice? I would like to crash headfirst against you and your boring cliche`. I say the time is right when I feel like I want to pursue whatever it is I want to pursue, despite the wrongness of time. I want to see where that takes me. That’s the insane part.