The starting point and destination. The imaginary line that connects these two limits sometimes called route and other travel times. The difference is great.
The path resembles gait of diabetes on the map: a path, straight or curved like the train on rails. Here, everything is predictable and arranged.
But the trip is something different. What is changing is not the distance and duration, but the way that we are experiencing. What is changing is our disposal to tackle the challenge and see in person unknown. Thus, the journey is transformed to adventure.
This challenge is what makes the difference between the tourist and traveler. The first is pleased with what she sees. The second, with what she discovers.
Adventure is not the random encounter. To choose. We are free to rip in to it or to the track. Because the unknown is not easy. If we look around us will not find it anywhere. The unknown resides within us, and we need to find strength. But just the touch, the chemistry of the world is changing. And possibly changing our visual: Everything looks new. Everywhere surprises.
Now, it is not the journey that becomes a reality. It is the reality that becomes journey. This means that reality is not given. It is not a donation, but a challenge to the senses, the thinking and our lives. It is a continent that is causing us to explore, to give the names of our language; to draw the shade of our memory, until you become familiar.
And the Grammar? This gives us the hexane the compass --ie navigation instruments-- in order to explore this new continent to learn; geography and ourselves.
Why any discovery follows two paths. One look outwards: things, people, shapes, colors. The other sees inwards: every time you discover the world, we discover
a part of ourselves.
The Grammar is therefore on the edge: in between the outside; between us and the world.
"There are three kinds of people", says an old naval saying,
"The living, the dead, and those traveling".
Bon voyage then.