If you can’t change your mind, what can you change?
I’m on my way to Greece, to the island of Lesbos, and more specifically, the hillside town of Eressos.
OK, I’m leaving seven weeks early … a spur of the moment thing … why wait?
Air France changed the departure and return dates on my ticket: May 11-August 10
Today is April 23. Phew!
There is barely time to breathe let alone sort out the visa stuff; and all manner of travel protocol.
And my tax return; where are the receipts and notes?
There’s nothing like a change of plan to intensify the task at hand; to rattle your comfort zone.
It makes you think: Crumbs, am I nuts?
Then you remember … there is no script.
The hurry and flurry feed your racing heart, they fan your explicit ardour. You’re ready to leap onto the springboard, you jump with gusto.
The thrill you trust will spill into a soft spot landing, outside the glare of expectations and preconceived ideas.
You travel, because you must; you dream. Movement hastens inevitability, or so it seems.