I remember sitting on the rooftop of my hostel in Santorini overlooking the Mediterranean in Greece one evening writing in my first travel journal that is now full, worn, nearly ruined by a jar of melted coconut oil and was once lost about when I "found myself." This was a measly two weeks into my travels... Did I know at that time that my travels would go on for nine months? No, not at all. I would never have imagined such a timeline. I never had a clear answer for that question as people would ask all the time throughout my travels. I didn't realize that "I don't know" was such an abnormal answer. But, anyway, now I find myself here in Malta, on the hard rocks feet from the salty, warm waters of the Mediterranean
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