I think of places like people–the whole experience like a new friend with whom I instantly bond, sharing secrets, opening myself up to them in all the blazing vulnerability my neurosis will allow, and allowing them to leave their mark on my life in the hopes that maybe somehow, in some small way, I’ve left a mark on theirs. In the wake, then, of leaving one place in search of another, I’m struck by a heartache so profound it can only be soothed by time. I take a deep breath and reassure myself with familiar songs or scents. But in the end all I can do is grit my teeth together and wait for the wave of heartbreak to pass.

I always experience this with traveling, or moving, or leaving or starting new schools or new jobs. Any change in the status quo and I’m filled with an overwhelming, bittersweet nostalgia that leaves me reeling. This, of course, is what I believe to be the emotion encapsulated in my tattoo. (As well as a pledge of support for someone I believe has the genius and talent to impact the world with his stories and art, but I digress.)

So now, as I write this, flying over a city in Quebec I can’t spell or even begin to pronounce, I’m so overcome with emotion and longing for all the different lives I want to live, all the places I want to call home, all the people I want to know in depth. I constantly yearn for change, but when it comes, I always find I never quite adjust quite as well as I affect. I want the new and the old simultaneously. I want everyone I’ve ever loved living together in one happy town as one big, happy family. I want to have my cake and eat it too.

A word or two about Moscow: it’s an honest city, struggling to come to terms with its past while striving to move continually upward in its quest for independence. It’s gritty and authentic, and walking through the streets and down into the metro and past the gypsies and the drunks evokes a distinct sense of living behind-the-scenes. It’s not flashy or bold. It’s subtle, it minds its own business, and it encourages others to figure life out for themselves. In short, I think I fit in well there, save a few minor wardrobe adjustments. I love it. And if it weren’t for future plans for which I’ve already been called and subsequently committed, I would have succumbed to the urging of those around me and applied for a job at the embassy with the intention of moving there as soon as possible. Instead, I will focus on asking for the wisdom and patient endurance to follow the path laid out for me.

I’m not going to elaborate on my Moscow experiences here on TD, mainly because we’ve set me up a blog with the expressed intention of posting my inane ramblings about Russia. You can find it here. I also took (literally) over a thousand pictures and video of the trip and have begun posting them on my flickr site. More will be up soon as I finish tagging and titling them.

And now…

Peace, love, and new horizons.