The truth is that I love my husband and I don’t like to be far from him. The truth is that it’s hard to accept this. I pack my suitcases, I plan my trips, I save my money, I tell myself: I can live alone. But as I walk along the streets, hearing my lonely steps, a lingering echo fading in a foreign air, I stop and look around and can’t remember how I got there, where I’m heading next. I go back to the hotel, look at the streets that my steps traveled, stare at the people from above, walking alone, so many people walking alone on this Earth, and I don’t want to go out anymore. Not without my husband, my husband whom I love although it’s hard for the person that dreams with walking alone to accept.