There is something romantic about a hotel room that is empty except for you.
I have my Alphasmart writing device, a bottle of water, a window, a light, and electrical outlets.
I really don’t need anything more.
There is nothing to do but daydream, type, and listen to the occasional creaking of doors and footsteps in the hallway. I take down my notes for the day, I publish a blog post, I plan out my day tomorrow.
This is how my travels once were before being married. I would sometimes move across the world in this fuzz of quietude, embracing aloneness, dreaming narratives of myself and what I wanted to do, go, learn, and embrace. I was very self-absorbed at this time, and I reveled in it.
I don’t regret my path, I wouldn’t even say that I long for things to be how they were. But every once in a while an empty hotel room is needed.