I love popping off on little trips, breaking up the monotony of work and study with a bit of adventurizing. Ok ok, I know I just got back from my week and a half escape to Hungary, but my flatmate and I decided we needed to start 2016 off with a trip. We didn’t know where, but we knew it had to be somewhere new.
If you walked into my flat, you would have no idea that I am leaving the country on Tuesday (that’s six days). No clue. My clothes are scattered over the floor, my books jostle for space on my shelves, and who knows what’s lurking under the bed or behind the couch or in the garage. Everything remains as it’s always been. Even my travelling pack is hidden away in my flatmate’s wardrobe, nowhere near the rest of my belongings. Am I mad? Am I in denial? Is this trip just a figment of my imagination?