I had plans. To travel to Wales, Cornwall, Yorkshire maybe even. So many beautiful places to visit. So many people to meet. Adventures waiting to fulfil my wanderlust. So I set up my basecamp in a little Box, did laundry and some online catching up. Wondering where my next trip would lead to.
And.. I stayed. Ten days passed and I didn’t go on any adventure, at least, I never left my Box. I went for walks, and drinks, and dinners. Shopping, riding out, or just cocooning in the house. I traveled music and stories in my head. I danced with the cows. I sang with the sheep. I laughed with friends and strangers. But I didn’t leave my comfy Box.
Now the time has come to leave my basecamp and head south for a new festival adventure. I am eager to the experience, yet hesitant to leave. How brutal suddenly the phrase: Thinking outside your box. Just let me stay here for a while please? This Box is big enough to grow in.
The Wilshire skies are grey and damp on the day of my departure. Is it the sky or me that feels like crying on goodbyes? I sooth myself upon the thought that in a week I have the sheer joy of retuning to my little wicked village and ignore what lies ahead in the near future. Before the final goodbye I go and play a little more inside my Box.