“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood…”
There’s something incredibly satisfying about rattling off all the places you’ve travelled to. Every new destination earns a new glossy red pin on the map until it is scattered with chicken pox. But a moment of pride and satisfaction is replaced by frustration as you take a step back and absorb the rest of the map, all the places that are unpinned and naked without one. All the places you haven’t seen and maybe never will.