It's time for me to move on again.
The past two years I've tried my hand in entrepreneurship, and after much toil and pain my small business has gained traction and is yielding a modest profit. Now that the thrill of building something from scratch has subsided and the daily work has been reduced to drab routine, I yearn for more activities. Well then, I will move on.
If there is something I have gotten used to in my life, it must be change. At one point in my boyhood my family moved to a rural area where simple cottages lined dirt lanes except a few bright brick houses surrounding the market place. Ten miles away was a little town with narrow asphalted streets and small stores, yet an occasional trip there to see their relative prosperity was always a special treat for me. I used to stand at the edge of a footpath on my way home from our little patch of hardscrabble land, gazing at the late afternoon sky across a meadow of tall grass, dreaming of faraway places where excitement and sophistication made their presence tangible.
Since then I have left behind many places, near and far. When I returned to those places that had impressed me as a boy, I was astonished at their puniness. Many things I used to admire and with an intense heart long for, now I find them pathetically unnecessary. Many values I used to hold dear with no questions asked, now I view them in a skeptical light. Dang if what you're feeling isn't change, as Bobby Darin sang in one of his songs.
After all, life is about changes, for better or for worse. The thing is, when you make changes and the people around you refuse to budge, you will end up being a solitary traveling figure on your own path, which I don't mind anyway. For had I stayed in one place then I would have steadfastly believed the only three-storied brick house at that tiny market place of my childhood the most magnificent building in the world.