I can listen to you talking about your grand adventures for hours. About the foreign cities you have visited. About Bosnia and Kosovo and Albania. About the exotic beaches and fellow travellers you meet at the seaside bar. About the things you see and the things you think about as you see those things. About the museums and the park and the rivers and the rooftop bars glimmering with lights.
I can live out of a backpack and walk beside you to explore the vast possibility the world has to offer. We’ll photograph each other with the stunning background from the countries we are in, upload it to Facebook and Instagram, and snap some pictures of our morning coffee and croissant, our afternoon’s garlic naan and tandoori chicken, our evening sangria. We’ll make friends with people from all walks of life and listen to their stories before going out together for a dance.
I can also listen to you talking about nothing for hours. About how you run for another 8 kilometres today, or 9 kilometres the other day. About how you clean some pots and pans or fix a loose hinge on the door. About how your client meetings go and the things you have on your to-do list for the rest of the day. About how you’re about to go to the nearest supermarket to buy a pack of cookies.
I can stay at home for months, with you ordering some interesting Kindle titles we have listed down on our wish-list so we can just read all day. We’ll be reading to each other every morning before we start our day and every evening before we end our day, one chapter each. We’re going to read someone else’s travel stories and journeying with them from wherever we are: the bed, the terrace, the kitchen.
We’ll have coffee in the morning and cook pasta in the evening–spaghetti carbonara or penne with smoked salmon and cream. You’ll be doing nothing, just sipping beer while watching another MotoGP race on a TV set in a small restaurant downtown; because we do not own a TV set. I’ll text you from the comfort of our kitchen desk that is full of art papers and watercolours, with the list of groceries to buy on your way home: some corn chips, please xx.
We’ll be doing nothing: just waking up in the morning and having breakfast, doing the laundry, going out for work and having lunch, finishing up some left-over work and playing squash, having dinner somewhere and heading out for salsa, reading books and watching old movies, whispering secrets and trading childhood stories.
We’ll be doing everything: from traveling the world to experiencing new adventures, learning a new language and dropping by at someone’s kitchen for a crash-course in cooking local delicacies, starting an exciting project together and making all sorts of meaningful connections…
We’ll see sunrise and sunsets and the twinkling stars from our balcony again and again and again. We’ll see sunrise and sunsets and the twinkling stars from places faraway from home again and again and again. I’ll see you here and there and everywhere, again, and again, and again…
And still, I want to do nothing & everything with you.