I find myself in Nepal, with seven months of travelling behind me.
I think back on the time that has passed since I left Italy last September, and about what encompasses the act of travelling.
To travel is to observe and if we’re able, to embrace new ideas without judgment;
it is to look at a stranger and see a part of ourselves in his eyes;
to open up to the knowledge that – despite the infinite shades of colors, customs, and traditions – every human being loves, breathes, suffers, and yearns for happiness;
to leave of piece of ourselves in every place we visit and nevertheless, become richer and more complete with each passing day;
to understand that beauty resides in diversity;
to accept ourselves and the world as we are;
to love people we’ve never met and to be homesick for places we’ve never been;
to arrive at the profound understanding that the eyes of that person you crossed paths with on a street corner are unique and unrepeatable, eyes that will only ever exist once for all eternity;
It is to observe the splitting of colors and draw on the wisdom that the light from which they come is, and will always be, only one.
To travel means all of this.
There exists a moment in which you see within yourself, the audacity to adventure into the unknown and so you leave, cutting through the air with the wings that life intended for us.
Lorenzo Zelaschi–Pokhara, Nepal – 09/04/2018