I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.
A couple of weeks ago, I was in Milan. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up there or why, nevertheless, I was jolted awake by the drop of airplane wheels on tarmac and thought “oh s**t. It wasn’t a dream!” It was an impulse decision.
So while on my two-day exile, I had time to spend seeking answers. Why am I here? What is my purpose? How much are those shoes?
It all made sense on my journey home. The plane was filled with Italian teenagers, effortlessly wearing pit black sunglasses onboard. The flight was turbulent and messy. There were bad smells, stomach-churning rifts and endless hopeful sales pitches for tea/coffee, perfumes and oversized chocolate bars. The young couple sitting beside me, continuously took photos of the airplane wing, throughout the flight, while I sat at the window seat.