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Writer's pictureTom Rigby

Panama City, Sunday 9th September 2018

This is the last entry of a journal covering my 2 month travel through Central America.


The excitement of sunset is over and the people slip into their night.

As darkness falls the city feels as if everyone is breathing in time, sharing a moment's pause between the end of this week and the start of the next.

The normally dangerous streets are pacified by the sanctity of a family meal.


You can't lie to your mother.


Since I left Bocas del Toro I've known that my adventure is nearly at an end. The past two months have been everything I could have possibly imagined and so much more.

I have had countless first times, many only times, wild times, silent times, my times, our times and always running out of times.


No matter how hard I try I cannot comprehend the amount of things I have learnt, felt & experienced on this trip. I have pushed (and been pulled) myself in every way imaginable and am a stronger, more together person because of this. I have no regrets. Every tear that shakes me as I write is felt with content that I have prevailed. The little smile growing on my face is a private knowing joke between me, myself and my journal.


There is nothing so pure, nothing that ignites the passions of my humanity more than this travelling.

I'm so lucky, so unbelievably lucky to be feeling this and writing this.


Time will make memories of everything we ever do. Time will make memories of us and then turn those memories into dust. But while we are still here we have our memories. They are born from life and they make us feel alive. Memories are the matter of the soul.






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