Italian Diaries: 01

Truth and consequences, al dente

There’s an invisible wall (a thought wad, when you really analyze it—isn’t everything?) that keeps us comfortably contained within in our home country. The world seems big; the language barriers, intimidating. The unknowns daunt and taunt. This dogma may be decidedly American—I don’t know—but once you push through the threshold of fear and start traveling the world alone, you realize some shit:

International travel is a luxury not of the rich but of the camaleonti—the adaptable shapeshifters who thrive in the unknown. I pride myself on being just that but I’ve found that one of life’s favorite questions is, “Oh, really?”