As the travel date to my life in China approaches, I’ve been contemplating this feeling of “Placelessness” which occupies my mind when travelling alone. It’s like a romantic loneliness as you seemingly float slightly apart from the world around you. Everything is familiar, but different, captivating but apart, accentuated with a super-sharp focus with every detail magnified, endowed with a special glow of whimsical difference. Feelings of loneliness and freedom vie as you strive to make connections while enjoying the anonymity of a place, a life, you are not yet part of. Cody C. Delistraty captures it all in her insightful, beautifully written post shared here.
On the way loneliness, freedom, and romance are intertwined.
For the past few weeks, I’ve woken up unsure exactly where I am. My bed, a modest full size, looks out onto a cobblestone courtyard framed by green linden trees and an intricately decorated castle. I’m in a pocket-sized one-bedroom apartment and although it is behind the Place des Vosges in Paris, by the looks of it I could be in Normandy or Toulouse, even Vermont. For that matter, there is no real way for me to know the year is 2014: save for the circle-pronged electrical outlet tucked behind my dresser, I could be waking up in the eighteenth century. In the haze of the early morning, these things tend to meld together.
The feeling of placelessness is a bit like a dream: the heightened romance, the intense brooding, the inherently transitory nature of the whole affair. Placelessness happens…
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