Some of Those Who Wander Are Lost

I also wandered when I was just 7 and my bro was 4..My adventurous parents took us on the ride of our lives from secure UK to the temple of Karnak, the desert oasis of Petra, the diversity of Constantenople(Istanbul), the simple majesty of the Acropolis and awesomeness of the Colesseum. That was in 1964. We were given books on Greek myths, ancient civisations and
archeology. Wow, what incredible food for an active and imaginitive mind and soul. The down side was coming back to ‘civilisation’ in Australia where my fathers family was. The school yard jungle was vicious in its racial expression and I was the target. I couldn’t reconcile what I had just been through with this childish hell. It took some quick adaption to quickly purge myself of any pomminess and my accent. I was still for many years an outsider and often alone if not lonely and isolated. A far cry from the warm friendly experiences when on my 6 month travelcade across the now EU, Middle East and the Baulkans.

Wish I Were Here


When I was a little girl, I journeyed to distant lands. I went on archeological digs in Egypt and on expeditions into the steamy jungles of the Amazon. I hung out with the Bushmen in the Kalahari Desert. When I stepped out of the back door of our house, the backyard and the neighboring fields transformed from small town Michigan into the world beyond. Sometimes, I was accompanied by my stuffed animals, my guinea pig, or my little brother Billy. Sometimes, I trekked alone into the wilderness.

When did curiosity turn into escape? Maybe it was always that way. Things were tense at home from the beginning. I have vague memories of thuds, screams, and my mother’s muffled sobs. School was hostile territory. The teachers and the other children made it clear that I was an unwelcome foreigner. My desk became a portal to Easter Island. A place almost too…

View original post 797 more words


Magic Smoke

Wish I Were Here


Narita, Japan – April 1992

As the plane touches down in Tokyo, sobriety creeps slowly, relentlessly into my mind. The last two weeks in Bangkok are a vibrant, beautiful blur. As the plane taxis to the gate, reality hits: I’m on my way back to Los Angeles. To the constant struggle against the black hole. To the hunger and the threat of being homeless. Hard work does not automatically equal survival. At least it doesn’t for me.

After I disembark, I head for the restroom to tidy up. For the first time in two weeks, I look at myself in a clear mirror. My hair is already limp and greasy. Angry red cysts have sprouted along my jawline. I scowl and turn away. Then I force myself to look back. I glare at my reflection. I hate you. Loser.


I put my backpack in a locker and then head for…

View original post 306 more words

Belerus or bust?

Hi there,

Inteersting travel plans…I wonder what they do with dimentai  sufferers in a Alice In Wonderland environment..still holding the clock back? Dimentia is a theme I wish explore and stumbled across ur site..most eclectic and individualistic. Love the hygenic and awesome architecture. Hope to hear from u soon.