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The sky is the limit, my friend.
We shall learn to fly.
When I was up there and Sofia was in my feet.
The only time when I can see your beauty, old city.
St. Patrick’s day, 2012
I met this man on my way back from the grocery store today. He roams the world. Or maybe just roams Sofia. But that is what he does. A modern nomad. I asked him if I could photograph him. He smiled and said:
‘Yes, but my face is ugly.’
‘Your face is interesting.’ And quickly added: ‘It has experienced a lot.”
Then I gave him a chocolate chip cookie. One of those healthy low-carb cookies. He looked down and said:
‘My hands are dirty.’
I told him he could keep it for later.
Being on the road
Somewhere in southern Bulgaria
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it’s In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions."
Hunter S. Thompson
Hell’s Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs (1966)
There is home at the end of the road.
And it smells like the Ocean on a rainy day.
After years and years of practice, the one thing in this world that I truly and utterly suck at is saying goodbye.
Sometimes I just leave. …Without a goodbye.
I always leave. But many times I come back.