the ancient road to Samarkand

I spin my old 80's globe gently, brushing the dust off the USSR and inspecting the crack that has appeared just off the International Date Line.

I got the globe as a Christmas present as a kid. Probably after nagging my parents about it for quite a while. I love maps. Nowadays I can explore Google Earth with a passion but I still find it fascinating to read the mystical names in tiny italics on my globe: Kufra Oasis, Sea of Okhotsk, Society Islands ...

I used to love travelling. I logged quite a few countries during my intense twenties. Now I dread bumpy flights and the exhaustion of arriving at midnight in foreign cities. I still travel, but not without suffering many sleepless nights about it. I force myself to go - because I have to. I have to explore.

I explore mysterious forest paths and strange neighbourhoods locally. But I daydream about sailing among the Society Islands. In my nightly dreams I follow the ancient road to Samarkand.