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As a kid from a family living in the lower class in the South Bronx of New York City, there weren’t many opportunities to travel. When I was around five, we went to Orlando studios, and I’ve been to Pennsylvania, but those places, well they weren’t for me. Weirdly enough I was…am a home body. I took adventures with books, and games, and my own imagination. Whether it was exploring Hogwarts Castle or crossing the protecting barrier at Camp Half-Blood, I never really looked up and wondered what was out there in the world. I was content with my little bubble of fiction. When I was in my late teens my brother-in-law was gunned down while leaving work. It made me realize that the world is vast, cruel, and lonely. I decided to extend my wings for the first time and leave home. I had no idea where I was going though. Where do you go when the only places you know are fantasy? Well, I decided I would go to College. I aced my G.E.D, in record time I might add, and began the process to head out and pursue higher education. Yet, I still had no idea where I was going. For all I knew of the outside world, I might as well have thrown a dart at a map. I wanted to leave, see something new, but I also was afraid. I had never left home before, so where could I go that I knew was still further than close, but closer than nowhere near? And then I found my answer. I ended up going to a school way, way, way up North of New York City. To a small town called Canton. Now, you have to understand, I live in the hustle and bustle of the busiest city in the world. The most aggressive city in the world. So, when I first arrived at Canton, the first thing I noticed was the smell. Oh man, I’ll tell you, I have smelled sewage, tail pipes, and the occasional dead rat in the gutter, but nothing could have prepared me for the smell of manure. It hit hard, and it was very pungent; it lingered on the tongue. I can still remember it like I am still there. The second thing I noticed, and it was the big one for me; the silence. You see, like I’ve said, I was born and raised in the south Bronx. Sirens, horns, shouting, backfires, the loudness of the city doesn’t keep me awake at night, but the silence at Canton was unnerving. I could hear absolutely everything that happened in town, and yet there was no sound. The sight of barren landscapes and a horizon filled with nothing, just trees and the silhouette of birds. It makes you realize what you’re missing when you’re surrounded by buildings. It isn’t an extravagant story, I’m aware. It is my story though, and it is one that made me realize two truths. One, no matter where you grow up, pulling into port authority is always, always a hassle. When you step off the bus and climb the stairs to exit into the busy streets of New York City, it takes your breath away. Two, you don’t have to travel across the globe, or across the country to realize just how small your existence is, and how easy it is to get lost in a small town, or even find a beach that is so hidden that the only way to find it is to get lost. I’ve never left the United States, and the only times I have left New York, I have never gone very far. However, the short journey that I did take to a remote town where cell service is so bad it’s like being back in 90’s, was a journey that everyone should take. Take a journey where the trees outnumber homes, buildings, and people. Where the only sounds you hear are the wind whistling, the crows cawing, and the moos of very distant cows. The sounds of the city have never kept me up at night, now…neither does the silence.