In a lapse of time, in an endless desert, there were objects discovered that belonged to a person who had traveled far in time and space.

This person was at the crossroads between a traveler and a tourist. The person had started their great wandering based on false promises made by alternative tourist guides and travel influencers, presenting the perfect untamed journey, since so far the person was used to spend most of their time at home, and to perceive reality as more of an internal process. The person’s favorite part of the house was the window, for it functioned like a big eye through which they could safely observe everything that was happening in the outside world. Overcoming themselves, the person attempts to make their own way outside, they wonder what it means to live an authentic experience and to record it. Sometimes, the person falls victim to marketing and to their very own vanity, and other times they observe the change of air from city to city, the city people going to work, their eating habits, the person likes reading by the river, buying cured fish and exotic fruit in Asian supermarkets and swimming in ice cold seas, leaving their saltiness unwashed for days.

The person follows their navigator so closely that sometimes they fall into it and thus absorbed they continue their roaming in the cyberspace. The alterations from a natural, real, earthly, stable, specific, true location to an extended vector, an unreal, a fluid, a virtual, an on line one are frequent.

The person procures an overload of fruit and especially of exotic fruit that they collect from various destinations so that they won’t miss a thing and that they can show them off to their friends, since they wish to be home before the fruit goes bad. The person carries various trip gadgets with them, waterproof backpacks, tents, uniforms, and they leave their digital traces in various spots on google maps, as during their digital roaming various fruit and souvenirs, being so many that they can’t fit in their bag, fall off it. The traveler/tourist always carries a uniform with them, a refuge protecting their body. Sometimes they might need to build a rough, temporary shelter to face the weather when they are stranded out of their hotel. The person buys experience and they consume images. The person’s target is to photograph as many places as they can and to use the photographic imprints as proof of the perfect experience. Among the findings there were entire tents and shelters the person had built as part of their failed attempt to imitate the nomadic way of life in the desert.

The traveler/tourist has walked a lot, they have taken many trains, airplanes and ships, passports and identities. All this evidence was found and collected through an archeology of the infinity molding the persona of the tourist traveler.

If, in the end, there’s something we could call an “intentional journey”, that is traveling consciously. The journey not as a kilometric scan, or a need to impress. But rather as a step to be taken primarily inside us, so that we’re trained to real wandering, to purposeful wandering.

Perhaps the journey is sacrificed on account of the simultaneity, of our need to photograph and share the experience even before we’ve lived it. Of course all this is very fluid and it would be rather pointless to divide the travelers into authentic and non-authentic ones, or to criticize as a dictation, drawing conclusions as to what is right and what is wrong. Those two identities are only naturally intertwined and that is not the end point.

The end point is rather a reminder of the poetry of the journey, a second contemplation on the emotion of floating in between spaces and times, of becoming reacquainted with the world and yourself, of stepping out of what we call the comfort zone, even if you don’t go very far.