On July 4th, 2017, I walked into work for my last shift.
The next morning I was in my dad’s Ford Explorer on my way to Missouri, where I’d visit family before catching a train for Boston.
I’d sold everything, except my bicycle and some winter clothes stashed away in my dad’s garage.
Three days later I was in Italy.
Since then, I’ve lit candles for Día de los Muertos in México, drunk champagne on Mondello Beach until the sun came up, danced the night away in an underground gay bar in Kyiv, and become friends with Albanian gangsters.
None of it came easily.
What might have seemed like a spontaneous decision was the result of years of preparation and hard-core saving.
There have been many bumps in the road, like the time I got low on money and had to turn back, or a flight cancellation just a day before my visa expired.
Hostels, rented rooms, and spare couches are what I call home.