Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome

"Apparently we can't get enough of the world," he says.
"No, I think it's a lifelong addiction."



You defined a generation of wanderers.  Kids who unknowingly turned into adults, grown on the pursuit of dreams.  From a generation that knew hardship well, a generation that made something out of nothing, a generation that mended the broken, a generation that moved nations.

Here, there are no hard times, merely the illusion of hardships raised against the backdrop of someone else's war.  Stuck in limbo, filled with a malcontent, perpetually delaying adulthood, they are unable to cope with the current state of all things.  For the dream, for every dream, every great dream, holds an even greater space for failure, for disappointment, for disillusionment.  So 85 days in the middle of France, imbibed in scotch, birra moretti, coffee houses, for here was only living, only living, only living, only here was there any weight.