There’s something in the act of setting out that renews me, that fills me with a feeling of possibility. On the road, I’m forced to rely on instinct and intuition, on the kindness of strangers,...

As is often the case when I travel, my vulnerability — like not knowing what the hell I’m going to do upon arrival — makes me more open to outside interactions than I might be...

Travel does this: it creates space that allows thoughts and memories to intrude and assert themselves with impunity. Smells and sights, the quality of light, the honk of a horn — can all act as...