Originally sent October 30, 2013

“We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us. Even while the earth sleeps, we travel. We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind.”

                                                                                                                        —Khalil Gibran



I’ve been trying to write this letter for a week. I have over a page of discarded words, vain attempts at opening some kind of window into my life. I felt like there was something I wanted to say, some insight I had gleaned from my three-and-a-half month trek across Africa, but I couldn’t figure what it was. Still can’t. I have traveled a great distance, both in body and in mind, and have arrived nowhere in particular. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

Now perhaps with time I will wrap my head around it all, all the places, all the people; one day I may even commit it to paper. But for now I am going to leave it where it is, as memory alone. A most fond memory: my time as a wanderer.

Of course, I would not be so rude as to leave you completely empty handed, however. And so I present, as promised, my next installment of photos from Africa—the most inclusive collection yet, with pictures from five different countries, including (back by popular demand) ones featuring yours truly. [Click here to go to the photos.] To everyone that has encouraged me with my photography, I say thank you. It is a great joy for me taking these photos, and that alone would validate the effort, but it’s certainly nice to know that people back home enjoy them.

Now surely, at this point, many of you are thinking, Okay, now what? Where will he go now? The answer, arrived at one day while lounging on a beach in northern Mozambique, is back where I started. No, not home—not yet—but to Cape Town, where my solo wanderings first began. I must warn you, however, that anyone searching for a meaning, for a trace of some grand design in this decision is in danger of getting lost. I go because I can; because right now I’m here, I’m on this side of the world, and I don’t know when or if I’m coming back again. Of course, it would be easy to suggest a certain willingness on my part to avoid coming home, and it’s true, I am a little afraid of returning to America after so long away, but it’s much more than that. It’s Africa. There’s something about this place that gets under your skin, into your heart. And it’s Cape Town, with perhaps the most spectacular setting of any city in the world (with the exception of Rio de Janeiro, of course). I don’t know how long I plan to stay—I guess that depends if I can find a job to pay for it or not—but it doesn’t matter. Life goes on whether you have a plan for it or not.


So off I go. I promise to write again when I feel I have cause to. Until then I wish you all the utmost happiness and prosperity. Live each day like it is a present.