year is 2042. “i was born in the wrong generation” a teenage girl sighs as she listens to 1d and cleans the lens on her vintage iphone 4s
there is a piece of me in every place i haven’t yet been. my mind wanders to believe that perhaps, if i venture to corners of the globe in which my soles deny yet to have touched, the aspects of my being will converge into the exact person i desire to call my own. by the end of all our journeys, we sit as creatures of cultures we have created and seen with our own sight. we will have shaped ourselves into the eclectic combinations of each distant land we have woken up to, each place we have left a bit of ourselves in.