I just discovered these two notebooks from my backpacking trip just over 15 years ago (shit that’s scary!) One of them is full of messages from people I met (and is great) the other is full of my own writings. That one is painful to read. And not just from poor writing, but from the repetitive message of loneliness that permeates the pages. In hindsight, I was probably a bit young to take off across Europe by myself at age 18…
