We have been in Europe for 3 months now and have finally reached the concluding days of the tour. I feel as though when I get home and finally wake up in the morning on my bed, I’d smile and wonder, “Was it all a dream? The places we’ve gone to and awesome people we’ve met… the stages, the music, the empty chairs, the lights, the churches, the applause, the bows, the street singing… the long walks, packing, repacking, re-repacking, the long bus rides and peering through the windows and seeing the horizon turn from day, to orange twilights to a starry night… the autumn maple leaves falling in colors of golden and red, the cold breeze brushing gently on your cheeks, the hand waves of joyful welcomes and bittersweet goodbyes through the bus windows, that young French boy, running after our bus until he couldn’t anymore,and instead waves goodbye and we watch him vanish in the distance, the feeling of meeting new wonderful people for the very first time and the tearjerking never ending goodbyes and photos. Was it all a dream?”. And then when I’d look in the bathroom mirror, I’d realize it wasn’t because the accumulated fats from Italy would attest to it all. And for once, I wouldnt mind having gotten it.
Zero KM at Madrid, Spain