I was in Barcelona, and my laughter sounded differently there. In San Sebastian, I drank white wine and was silent happily. In Munich, I cried in the rain, and I felt comfortable. Travel is like my personal diary. In every city, I left a piece of myself. Not a photo on my phone, but an emotion in my heart.
I am not looking for luxury. I am looking for ease, street coffee, unfamiliar looks, something that cannot be bought. I want to come somewhere with a man who will say: “We didn’t plan it, but it’s good that we are here.”
Because it’s not where, but with whom that matters.
And while I dream about Rome, I don’t forget that the most interesting journey begins with a meeting of eyes.