It was a scruffy-haired, tattoo-covered, cuddly, drunk Manx (met in New Zealand, missed in Europe, but found in America) who first spoke aloud of our “vagabondic” lives. And I suppose connecting those geographical dots does merit the label, but in truth this tale commences earlier.
It begins as separate but similar suspicions shared by young hearts that there may be more “ways” than upbringing shows.
Maria and I’s had been separate searches across cultures, traditions, and half Earth’s circumference yet desire sustained by grit would re-bind us as a greater whole, comprising equally obstinate parts, but following a unified theory: there exists a state where all things thought impossible are exactly not.
Naturally such states are shifting, ever-changing, but their chartings are as tiles added to what we see as an infinite mosaic. Every tile enriches a larger work; each discovery expands a shared world.
Why tell you this now? Because today is unique; it marks arrival of a tale via departure--from a zone already known to be a last frontier--and moves beyond any border previously known.
Welcome, friends, to La Vida Vagabondic.