i usually don’t experience my extreme cases of wanderlust until summertime, but for whatever reason, it’s arrived early and all i want to do is fly south for the winter. or north. or any direction really, ha. it’s really quite unruly when this said wanderlust hits because all i can think about is how great it would be to be climbing trees or building forts or bombing down hills on long boards. or playing music barefooted out of the back of old pick up trucks or laying in open fields with no where to go. or laughing in the middle of empty forests or eating watermelons picked right from the watermelon patch or just lying in a foreign room in a foreign place doing nothing at all but just existing, which sometimes can be foreign in and of itself. and i love every second of it. all of this extra energy makes me want to create everything and do everything and i always end up surprising myself in the end with what i had no idea i could even do. wanderlust in full effect.