The Melancholy Charm of Lonely Travelling Places.

[Mindful]

The details are important.

Well.... l have noticed, you’re always in a bad mood.

Someone has got to be.

I would like to take a road trip through the Mid West/the heartland. What do you think?

I want to see the rivers and streams in the Ozarks.

Take extra gas.

You mean petrol?

I mean what I say.

Good for you.

 

[Unkotare]

The details are important.

Well.... l have noticed, you’re always in a bad mood.

Someone has got to be.

I would like to take a road trip through the Mid West/the heartland. What do you think?

I want to see the rivers and streams in the Ozarks.

Take extra gas.

You mean petrol?

I mean what I say.

Good for you.

Not always.

 

[there4eyeM]

The details are important.

Well.... l have noticed, you’re always in a bad mood.

Someone has got to be.

I would like to take a road trip through the Mid West/the heartland. What do you think?

I want to see the rivers and streams in the Ozarks.

Take extra gas.

You mean petrol?

Isn't that some kind of bird?

 

[Mindful]

I wanted to do route 50.

Then I heard you needed survival skills.

 

[Mindful]

The details are important.

Well.... l have noticed, you’re always in a bad mood.

Someone has got to be.

I would like to take a road trip through the Mid West/the heartland. What do you think?

I want to see the rivers and streams in the Ozarks.

Take extra gas.

You mean petrol?

Isn't that some kind of bird?

 

[SweetSue92]

Nothing quite provokes the peculiar mixture of discomfort and pleasure that characterises the melancholy mood as powerfully as does solitary travel. On our own somewhere on the road, we may feel both lost and sorrowful and at the same time inwardly released and confirmed in our sadness.

It’s late in the evening at a large airport somewhere in modernity. Most of the terminal is now empty; the few remaining departures are all for other continents. Most of us will be spending the night over an ocean turned silver by a brilliant moon. The waiting travellers are spread out across the terminal, some are sleeping, most are checking messages, a few are looking pensively into the middle distance. Outside, maintenance crews are loading bags and fitting fuel hoses. Stacks of meals – hundreds of fascinatingly wan chicken breasts or cork-like lasagne – are being craned into galleys. Occasionally, the same metallic voice reminds us to stay close to our luggage or announces that a new whale is ready to board: Osaka, San Francisco, Beijing, Dubai. So many unforeseen, unknown places, the world still in its way so large and unknown.

We associate the word ‘home’ with what is settled and domestic, but this desolate, interstitial place can feel more like where we truly belong than home itself. Through the plate glass windows, a roar of engines can be heard. Another giant ascends in a flawless controlled rage.

Soon it will be our turn.

The Melancholy Charm of Lonely Travelling Places - The School of Life

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Seemingly a million years ago, when the hubby and i were dating, we used to go to the airport on dates. Yes, dates. We would eat at a airport restaurant and watch people greet each other at the gates and say goodbye and imagine all the trips we would take when we had money.

They were actually wonderful dates. Ah the good old days