Homelessness has always been a blessing and a curse. Growing up homeless in body, family, and country I often felt a great longing inside of me, a loneliness beyond words. No amount of time spent with people could extinguish that. Over the years much of my nomadic existence was a search for home, a search to belong. In the end home was inside of me, and in the people around me who made a difference… and home was in the ocean. No other place, no matter how comfortable I felt was ever truly home. It is the ocean, the endless shades of turquoise and blue that slow my heartbeat to a confident, peaceful pace. I cannot think of anything more invigorating and soothing than diving beneath the surface, feeling the Big Blue with all my senses. Then I move on, in search of new encounters, too curious about the world to be able to remain at peace. Eventually peace will have to be inside of me so I can carry it with me wherever I go. I would say I am about halfway there…