Elizabeth Bishop is one of my favourite poets. When I was in London last winter I used to read her poem "Questions of Travel" before going to bed. I want to share a small part of this poem with my friends who are now in India whom i dearly remember and i hope one of their trips to be to Mexico.

Questions of Travel

Think of the long trip home.
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there's a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush
to see the sun the other way around?
The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?
To stare at some inexplicable old stonework,
inexplicable and impenetrable,
at any view,
instantly seen and always, always delightful?
Oh, must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?