“Where are you from?” has always felt like an impossibly small question for the life I have lived. Not because I don’t know the places I’ve called home, but because none of them, on their own, can contain the truth of who I am. My upbringing was never singular or straightforward. By sixteen, I was paying rent, working, going to school, and figuring out the world as I went. I rented a room in a house full of strangers. I was independent because I had to be, not because I was ready. And yet, I...

Discovering the Essence of Travel I’ve never counted how many countries I’ve been to. Not once. Not even out of curiosity. For me, travel has never been about tallying stamps in a passport or collecting destinations. It was never about the list. It has always been something quieter, something deeper. A calling. A remembering. A return to wonder. The truth is, I didn’t even get on a plane until I was twenty. I grew up in a small town. We didn’t have much, and we weren’t a travelling family....

Travel will never fit inside a square. It is not the plate of food, or the golden sunset, or the hand outstretched toward a blue horizon. Travel is the inner weather. It is the quiet rearranging of the soul, the feelings that slip beneath the surface and change everything. I have felt these emotions in Kathmandu when I was lost for the third time that day, in Bali when Joris asked me to marry him, in Botswana, where the night roared with lions, and in Peru as the sun climbed over Machu...