It’s a way of living. I choose to do so. I live on the road. I choose the Dinarides to do so.
I’m on my way. There’s no conclusion, I’m rather in the middle of a thought.
“What is your message?” a friend asked. “I don’t know.”
There are loads of things I want to say, stories I want to tell, thoughts I want to share, places I want to show. But a message? It would be good if I had one. One clear message.
“That’s okay, then you are the one that opens doors.”
I think he’s right. I open doors.
You can see for yourself what’s behind. Perhaps there’s something in it for you.