A discussion on the slightly darker side of ‘needing to go’ paired with Stevie Smith’s She got up and went away poem.

There’s a few things I say over and over again when it comes to travel, and you might have heard them all before, quietly making its way in to the paragraphs of a range of articles and musings here. The one I’ve said most often is along the lines of “immersing yourself in a new city like a local”. But the one I’ve repeated, maybe here, maybe in my journal, and maybe in my many attempts of explaining why I travel to my loved ones is this: Travel is my reset button.