I'm a bit out of creativity for writing stories so I'm going to be a bit cheesy and post this poem that a friend introduced me that fits too perfectly...

Facing West From California's Shores

Facing west, from California's shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the
land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western Sea—the circle almost circled;
For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia—from the north—from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south—from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands;
Long having wander'd since—round the earth having wander'd,
Now I face home again—very pleas'd and joyous;
(But where is what I started for, so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)

- Walt Whitman

--I second that, all of it.



The westbound shores I got to face this last weekend in Mancora, Peru (don't worry, I have a few tales from that trip):