I’ve arrived in an alternate world. A place with many possibilities and great potential for both danger and new joy. But I am not a stranger to this land or to myself. I look down at my feet. I have traveled on similar stones before. The foliage here is not entirely foreign. Like water taking the path of least resistance, my feet start walking as soon as I arrived. They drag the rest of my body along before I even get a chance to think. Shameful, predictable procedure. I know the comfort of the sun against my face will feel nice. The river water will be refreshing. But I know I’ll wander. I’ll get lost and wind up somewhere unpleasant. Cut my feet on sharp volcanic glass and tell no one. Maybe twist my ankle while gazing up at distant worlds in the night sky. And I know that at the end of the trail, after I’ve endured the punishment of my wandering feet, I’ll recognize where I stand yet again. I’ll squint my eyes and look far into the distance ahead of me.