Taking a deep breath in under a desert sky full of stars, feeling the sweet smoke from the hookah fill my lungs. The fire crackling and the hum of the generator the only sounds for miles.
In 2011, I was a world traveller. I logged more than 60 hours on various planes and probably spent the equivalent amount of time waiting around airports and at border crossings.
I grew in unexpected ways this year - unexpected to me at least. While I experienced so many incredibly joyous things, I never quite managed to escape the underlying feeling of discontentment that has been plaguing me as of late. If someone were to ask me "are you happy?" Without hesitation, I would respond, "Yes. I am happy." But it is difficult to explain the almost overwhelming sense that I could be so much more happy - that there is something out there, something unnamed, that is just out of my grasp.
For me, the changing of the year holds no real significance, but I find my curiosity peeked for what this new year will bring. Will I spend more time in airports and on airplanes? Will I smoke shisha under the stars with a group of bedouins once more? Will I figure out just what it is that I seem to be so desperately missing?