Travel is oxygen. The collected experiences of new countries, cultures, and landscapes seems to linger in the mind with equal fervor forever after. It's been a year since my last international trip and I still think about it all the time.
Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892 - 1950
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
All night there isn’t a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.
My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I’ll not be knowing;
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
No matter where it’s going.