Atlas.

I have found myself asking questions of the people I have met over the last year or two, the people that have sparked my interest, I want to know who they see themselves as, what their motivations are, where they have been, where they want to go and even on occasion what love means to them. The reasons for these questions are two-fold, but ultimately the same, I want to understand myself & other people.

I have been unsure of my own answers, at times they are cloudy and confused, at others evolving or dissolving. I have closed doors behind myself, opened new ones, left a few ajar. Above all I have wanted to find inspiration, in something, or perhaps simply in myself and I am still looking. I’ve even wondered if I could happen on a Genie, to find me, whisper in my ear, Martin, this is what you need to do…………………. but the whispers if they are there are too faint to hear.

In London now I find myself with itchy feet, here I that feel like I can only look backwards, I don’t find any peace looking back.

I pull out an Atlas and flick through the pages, my fingers trace a route across one particular page. My index finger begins in mountains, I say the names of the towns and cities along the way, eventually the land meets the ocean. I decide that I am going to see the road for myself. Camino bound.