Over the last few years I've spent a lot of time traveling and it's always the same. Every time there's a period of anxiety and dread leading up to the trip, the whirlwind chaos of the journey, a disorienting burn-in period at the other end, the business of being gone, the (usually exhausting) trip home, and the simultaneous depression and loneliness when I'm back in my own bed (as the last of my body's endorphins flit out like dying fireflies).
