The Little White Cube

Traveling can be so thick and fast. Sometimes all you want to do is see, sometimes rest. You become so full of experiences that you almost burst pop splat. I wish there was a small white cube in which to stop, digest and reflect between countries. A clear space to sit and think. A space without visuals, without sound, without anything. A bland little box in which to make the transition from last to next. A time of zero experience and zero sensation, apart from still. A little white cube in which you can go inwards to take it all in. To learn from the constant slog – to take the best from the experience and listen to the knowledge. A little white cube in which to understand what you have been through. A place of your very own just to sit, digest and recharge before the next explosion of sensation. One day left in Burma and the little white cube will be another aeroplane. Not white, not square and not empty.  Up and down, high and flat. Exhausted in so many ways. Time to find sand and waves and do nothing for a while. A space in which to stop.