You’ll never leave where you are until you decide where you want to be, so I know you’ll never die, not until you’ve seen it. “It” being everything, because if there is one privilege to dying, it is the right to live without consequence. You are made of burned pages, the smoke we’ve inhaled, unspoken agreements and things we wish we spelled correctly. Spain is about to get damn lucky.
P.S.: One of the best feelings is having a full tank of gas and an empty schedule book.