Shuffling through Italian border control like level 99 on Nokia Snake
Cowbells jangling in the cloud cover at dawn.
Strong coffee poured from a moka pot onto microwaved milk in a tiny kitchen in Naples.
The smell of alpine forest. Rounding a bend to see the peak of the mountain Pitalus, and the steep meadows bathed in sunshine.
The colours of Venice after the sun gets low.
The cold, sweet water dispensed by the water fountains suspended on the cliffs along the Path of the Gods.
Removing my hiking boots after ascending and descending the hundreds of steps from Amalfi to the Valle delle Ferriere.
The view of everything from the top of Arc de Triomph where a hazy, grey sky turns the muted, symmetrical avenues of Paris into an infinite sphere of amazing views.
The contrast between the bald, muscular Italian man overtaking us at 120km on the freeway and the tiny smart car in which he is seated.
Tucking the lower half of my shirt up into my backpack straps so that my exposed abdomen can leak off some heat into the humid atmosphere.
The shower in Amalfi with its warm, heavy water falling from directly above in a glass cubicle of perfect proportions.
Cheesy dance music thudding as the crowd dances beneath the eaves and shutters of 500 year old buildings, while lightning flashes overhead.
The surge of the Paris metro 4 line accelerating from one station to the next.
The heat of the sun in Rome being instantly extinguished by the massive shadow of the colosseum.
The taste of the puddle of butter in the centre of a French, buckwheat crepe.
Standing between the monumental size of THE CORONATION OF NAPOLEON on the equally immense Louvre palace.
Sitting still in the Luxembourg Gardens under a stormy sky.
Naked and wet in the middle of Qatar airport.
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If you met yourself from the future, what would you ask your future self?
What if they wont tell you anything?