A World Full of Nothing

My Granddad travelled a lot, when he was younger. He went to France several times, crossing the sea in a small boat when the water was least violent, and claimed he even made it as far as Italy before coming home and settling down with Grandma. Once, when I was just a few years old, I asked him what the rest of the world was like.

He said, “Child, every place on Earth is different. But no matter where you go, it’s all the same.”

I was twenty six years old before I learned what he meant by that.

Image is © Copyright Paul and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence