Two reasons for writing
Sharing. You like sharing. But you can’t share enough. Only so many hours in a day, only so many days in a life. To be shared beyond the limits of your life, your ideas must be put down. In this way they travel through time and space, as Neil deGrasse Tyson would say.
Or, you don’t like sharing at all. Fuck those other people. But you do like experiencing things, moving around this lovely little planet as you breathe the airs and smells and stars. And you know you’ll forget if you don’t write.
You will forget the adventurous young himself, the one who slept happily in hostels and bus stations and once in a hedge outside the Louvre, drunk on cheap wine. You will forget the sad young himself as well, who wandered cobblestone streets and drank too much cheap wine and visited the hometown of Dylan Thomas to figure out his secrets, without success. You ache to remember those moments after they’ve been diluted into something else.
Either way, writing will take you beyond the limits of time and space. It can be for everyone who is or will be alive, or just the old forgetful you of the future. Or, if you’d like, both.
It’s a beautiful night. Strange winds from the pampas coming in through the hostel window. The moon is high, the stars are out. Crisp, clean air pulling at me to stay a little longer. I do not want to be pulled in, but I like the thought.

