From the book "Where the Hell is Matt?: Dancing Badly Around the World." by Matt Harding.
I was in transit.
And for as long as I remained that way, I
felt okay. When I stopped moving, that was
when problems caught up with me
But then I thought: airports are soulless,
antiseptic, and generic. Why am I at peace
here? Why am I only happy when I'm on my
way somewhere?
I suppose the next question is fairly obvi-
ous. But it had only just occurred to me:
What am I running from?
Sourced from Google Books.
(I wish there were a satisfactory way to do block quotes in G+)
Where the Hell Is Matt? (Link leads to the page with the quote in Google Books)
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