Update 1.0 on what might have a shot at making it to Periplus someday

So I did try to write the roughest initial drafts of this piece. Regardless of whether or not these chapters will eventually morph into a well-structured creation, or if they would even finish being written at all in the first place, I see it as an appropriate moment for some early reflection.

A difficult part was to sort through all faces, names or the lack thereof, and happenstances. Do I decide on being completely honest, or do I prioritize “variety” – assuming this is the way to be a bit more reader-centric rather than exclusively putting my own agenda in the spotlight? Since it is practically a (semi-)autobiography, how do I balance the rawness and authenticity of it all with how much I want to protect certain parties? How would the real individuals feel about and react to the bluntness of it all, and should it matter? Even though they were all obviously PG-rated, but still, how explicit do I need to be about the emotions, messages, factual details, and such? Does the promised freedom outweigh the risk, i.e., will it interfere with my current relationships with some people?

But also, I looked back at all my solo travels and was made in awe with how many individuals I had met, connected with, or rekindled dormant friendships with – that inspired the making of this work. The experience spans years, though not yet a decade, and countless places that are dispersed around the globe. To think how far I have come since my first solo journey in 2017. Of all organic encounters, at least two were nameless. Some had a name but no trails to make use of it nonetheless. Some were buried deep in unanswered texts – mostly from my end. These interactions were flawed, broken, maybe insignificant now – but they were once real and most importantly, I lived them.

And then, a question for me to answer, why was I attracted to these temporary rhapsodies? Does the fact that I know they’re transient make it more meaningful than the longstanding relationships I build with people I see on a daily basis, in my geographic vicinity? Is it because I think I would be awful at maintaining lifelong relationships, so I resort to the things that feel more urgent due to their looming expiration? Is it just a mere romanticization attempt in an otherwise linear and too well-crafted life?

Eventually, what do I gain from all these? Mere inspirations for an attempt at self-actualization through realizing a lifelong dream of producing pages of finished stories and officially being given the title “author,” by milking dry all the juices and leaving none to privately cherish at the end? Must all feelings be made public? See, by now I’ve put too many question marks in a post.

I write, and thus I am made free. I’d like to think of it like that. But freedom comes with certain costs – I am yet to figure out if I am ready to afford them, or if is it worth at all.