In a town that stood still, I was the boy who couldn’t. People were born, raised, taught, married, worked, and died in the same town without ever seeing the outside world. There were never new streets, signs, roads, businesses or houses, only new generations.
I couldn’t do it.
I can’t have my history repeat itself because I haven’t forgotten it yet. I can’t forget being in L.A., Taipei, Vienna, or Amsterdam while my only connections to that small town died. I’ve had many apartments, hotel rooms, houses, but I was gone when I lost my home. But you know what they say; “A rolling stone gathers no moss.”