the melodic voice of the wind, from its whistles to the way its breath rustles the leaves, swept me off my feet as soon as my eyes could comprehend the horizon line and my heart felt the first pangs of a longing ache to abandon thoughts of home for the intoxicating concept of experiencing what the rest of the world sees when they look up at the sky, and their trees, and the texture of the paint on their walls. a wanderlust i never grew out of. it’s the ache in my heart that tells me i would like to live forever and yet not another day within the same beat; escapism at its finest. that seductive desire to know what the world is like without having to bloody my hands and wear my throat raw with its jagged edges. to balance just on the precipice of being a part of something deeper than the gaze of my curious mind.