I was in the Winter of my life and the men I met along the road were my only Summer - but there’s no use in talking to people who have a home; they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you laid your head. i was always an unusual girl; my mother told me that i had a chameleon soul. no moral compass pointing me due north, no fixed personality. just an inner indecisiviness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean. i belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone, who had nothing, who wanted everything. with a fire for every experience and an obssesion for freedom that terrified me to the point that i couldn’t even talk about, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.