There was this white house. It was settled behind a river, and the river’s water drifted towards Loch Ness. The house looked peaceful, standing still in a world where time moves by so quickly.

Our car drove by so fast I barely caught it. But I thought if I lived there, I could forget about all my worries. I could walk along the edge of the river and roam without the numerous amount of doubt floating in my head. Maybe I could read more books or find more time to take photos. But maybe the lives within the house aren’t so wonderfully perfect because nothing is so perfect… I’d like to imagine it could be.

And this is one of the reasons I love traveling so much. I get to see different ways of living that could put my definition of happiness into another perspective. A better perspective.

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