Is it out of a deep recognition of loneliness, when we hesitate after someone tells us they don't travel? Is it a loneliness detached from the subject? Why is it when we travel and see others, whether together or alone, we are reminded of both our own togetherness and solitude at the same time? Why do we sometimes smile at working class shopkeepers during our travels but ignore the ones at home? Why do we ask foreign cab drivers about their lives but ignore the problems of our friends? Are people who travel the same wherever they go or are their identities in flux, contingent to where they are traveling and with whom? Why do we say "in order to truly know someone you should travel with them?" Where does this come from? From a fixed point in time during a trip external to us while we are away from home? Is the soul not internal? Is knowing a person not being familiar with their soul? Does this mean that physical movement somehow translates into abstract authenticity? Does external motion like traveling far from the place you consider home somehow transform into internal fodder for the endless abyss of human souls? Why do couples who travel behave exactly the same? All of them a form of bland meshing of two average people without any real soul to guide them but are seen burning with passion at home? Is this out of fear that traveling outside the status quo of how couples ought to behave on trips would ruin the physical space of the place you've been if you should find yourself there again without them? A cloud you named with a beautiful woman or a breeze that pushed her hair into your face and tickled your chin? Could it be a fear of leaving pieces of your soul all over the places you've been, and having to go back to those places to find those pieces? What about places that aren't physical but forge the soul through this motion? I guess it's best to ask whether the soul is timed and whether these spaces remain the same throughout its existence.

The Soul of the Artist; Nikolaus Gyzis; 1897 — *The Soul of the Artist*; Nikolaus Gyzis; 1897