For those who love reading, traveling and walking

I know it might sound redundant but not everyone who travels actually likes a good walk on a foreigner city. Hence the title.

But if you do like walking and traveling and if you also have a thing for books I wanted to share a trick I do almost always: book itinerary. Yes you heard well! There is nothing more captivating then walking a path that was described on a book you loved, I guarantee.

For instance, check this map of Mrs Dalloway walkabouts:

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The Asian influence, or how okonomiaki makes you happy

One of the things I like most about Brisbane is the influence it has from Asia, and I mean all parts of Asia literally. Without difficulty one can have a delicious okonomiaki for breakfast and indulge on a tasty kimchi for lunch, all that watching beautiful japanese girls passing by with their bowlegs (it happens so often that they have bowlegs, would it be because the way they sit, or because in the past it was considered “womanly”, beautiful and attractive? I wonder…).

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Storm on a sunny day

“For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much – the wheel, New York, wars and so on – whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man – for precisely the same reasons.”

(Douglas Adams, The Hitchhikers’s Guide to the Galaxy)



From the things I like reading.

“In the beginning, I adored. What I adored was human. Not persons; not totalities, not defined and named beings. But signs. Flashes of being that glanced off me, kindling me. Lightening-like bursts that came to me: Look! I blazed up. And the sign withdrew. Vanished. While I burned on and consumed myself wholly. What had reached me, so powerfully cast from a human body, was Beauty: there was a face, with all the mysteries inscribed and preserved on it; I was before it, I sensed that there was a beyond, to which I did not have access, an unlimited place. The look incited me and also forbade me to enter; I was outside, in a state of animal watchfulness. A desire was seeking its home. I was that desire. I was that question.”
—Hélène Cixous (Coming to Writing).