(Wanderlust) — a honeyed word that describes the spirit of true bold hearted, fearless adventurists — thirsting, lusting for utter wonder. I see wonder in the midnight dreams of Timbuktu, in orangutang families in the lush forests of South Asia and in a city skyline slithering around the intoxicating heights of the Eiffel tower. Somehow, it all seems distant but close enough for the smell to tease me. Leaping towards the unknown is all I ever hoped for in this world so big and full of London alleyways and Hong Kong corridors. My footsteps echo as they tip toe through the night and settle, positioned crosslegged in front of a map of charted destinations. 1 a.m. callings incite imagination chanting for another trip, another long flight and another set of people. Shuffling people like shuffling playing cards is where I am most comfortable. I can fly and flutter away without any toxic parasitic relations — moving onto the next journey. This is a traveler's home.

They say a mole on your left foot signifies a destiny for wandering. I embrace it.

Sometimes, I fear that the wind may drag me off course... That the only relationship I'll build is with the culture and not the people in it. That I'll be so overcome with the aroma of other traditions, I forget my own. These fears are a steady rock, keeping me human and keeping my heart at home and not with the world — a perfect balance between desire and responsibility. These are a traveler's fears.

Why? So maybe, one day, I'll remain humble enough to soar as high as the Kilamanjaro, the Andes and maybe even the Himalayas. My mind is aching to have the knowledge of taste and grace and proper language. One day maybe, I will be able to serve the earth as it has served me — watering me with its rivers and lakes, feeding me from its fruit, educating me through its people. I am still a bud, however, waiting to bloom. I can't help but needing, wanting more of Moroccan falafel and Vietnamese pho. I have fallen in love with just being. This is a traveler's dream.

As I take my next step, there is blood coursing through my veins — fierce as the Nile or the mighty Amazon. I have vowed to never give up on the journey. If I am penniless, I will go. I have to go by foot. By the spirit that calls me, I pray that I continue to explore, never ceasing until experience shines through the wrinkles in my smile. I want to say I have mapped the world and been to every place my dreams took me as a child. I want to tell my grandchildren to protect their journey and the history of the other quests people long before them embarked on. This is a traveler's hope.