Happiness is inversely proportional to luggage. There’s no skirting this rule, little wheels don’t count, it is exact. One blue backpack, smudged with countries and only half full. Packing is a joy if seen primarily as a process of exclusion. “I’m not taking that! I’m not taking that either! Oh no, all that’s staying here!”
What’s left are primarily magical talismans, the only necessities for a real journey. Notebook, prayer beads, devotional pictures, condoms and lube, exactly the right book to read.
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