One month has passed here in Chefchaouen.
I remember when a month felt like a long time.
You would not believe how quickly time elapses on the road.
If you are a traveler, perhaps you know.

I am without anything to show for it.

 

Of this, I am perversely proud.

 

To enjoy your life, to live it for no other purpose than time is fleeting and the world is large.

 

This is a gigantic privilege, of course.

 

Travel reminds you of your privilege at every turn.

 

Unless, that is, you’re a 20-year-old Aussie lad on holiday in Bali.

 

(Only love, Aussies)

 

I have met many Aussies in the past month.

Travel is endless meetings.
Many, many faces. Some beautiful souls.

 

Some long walks. Some lazy days. The occasional, legendary bout of  drinking.

Many partings.

A few, we promise, will not be forever.

Inshallah.

The sun-drenched haze of a place where clouds are rarely seen. The smell of hashish, coloring everything here, in the blue city.

 

In this way, a month has passed.

 

In this way, we pass a life.