Between every flight, in the middle of every train journey, during the uncertain hours of every long bus ride, something happens: you think.
That moment when you've left a crowded city behind and haven't yet arrived at the next — that is travel in its purest form. Neither past nor future, only movement.
Over the years I've noticed that my most valuable memories are usually the "in-between" ones. Not the excitement of arrivals, but those quiet transition moments. Clouds watched through an airport window, tea drunk at a station, an unexpected conversation on a village bus.
Learning to travel means being able to say welcome to these in-between moments.
