staylust,

“what wanderlust is for”: a pinprick intake when you least expect it, a sudden urge to leave the current, to drop out, freeze, stay where something heartstoppingly beautiful — view, sound, smell — jumped on you. Let your momentum wear off — slow down, hang; feel momentarily eternal, gloriously excluded, infinitely at home; but avoid overstaying. ■    Its not the urge that is new but the freedom to act it out — to take it as a blessing. Tramps, gypsies have been romanticized, roaming in wilderness seen as bliss — but real-life vagrancy was sweat and tears in the age of near-zero Crusoe and aggressively territorialized societies; even those feeling at home in nature could rarely afford it: “moths in the treacle,” people barely traveled and felt pressed (“wasting time”) when they did. Mechanical transportation strained the heartstrings — a tone of “restless sad” tinted Earth travels: a train or a plane churns space, teases with once-in-your-life views but its unyielding metallic pace makes them less attainable than ever.

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