Have you ever walked on the moon? In Pamukkale, you can.

There the wind clips you with a sparkle of healing water as you cross along the footpaths meant to keep tourists out of the pools. The overpowering glow of white is a jolt to the senses, not unlike traversing the endless prairies in a blizzard. All at once there is no color, but focusing on its absence arouses a rare sensation of being a dark spot amid infinite space. You become so aware that you are on a planet, and that this slice of the terrain is perhaps a connection to another world. We must be related to our galactic family somehow. Perhaps this special place holds the key.

I miss Turkey, Pamukkale, the ancient world almost every day. I know I walk in a land of history wherever I am, but as a kid I connected so completely to the myths that are preserved in the Turkish landscape. Foolishly I barely even realized that’s where I was fated to land until our first visit to ruins in the Mendares. Once it hit me that I was inhaling the breath of the Amazons of Asia Minor, something grew alight within me, as if I knew I was always meant to be there.

Instantly after this photo was taken, I was met on the ledge by a friend in my group. We walked down the terraces barefoot and sun burnt after a long day both on the road and exploring this site. I remember these days so fondly because of how opened my heart was to the sensation of life, color, love, and myth. Travel has always lent me the best lens through which to create art and write generously. More than anything, I yearn for the time to slip across foreign landscapes to return. These days it feels like the collective passage for safe journeys has been locked away by the gods, and we must wait patiently for the door to slowly reopen.