Dialogue

We often forget that the most important thing we carry with us is ourselves—the one inescapable piece of equipment. No, we can’t drop it off at the recycling center, and pick up a new version at the store.
I first realized this in the 1960s while wandering around looking for a place that checked all the boxes I thought were needed for a home. When I found that some small city in, say, Connecticut did not measure up, I’d be on the road again.
If drivers noticed, it must have been a sight. There I’d be standing by the roadside, thumb out, in a violent dialogue with myself. One part of me would accuse, while the other would defend.
It took me a long time to realize that my stints as a visitor to your community were more about me than about your town, borough, county, state, or city. I was hauling around a lot more than the pack and guitar.

We are all works in progress. Some progress rapidly, and some less so, but I advise that you keep the volume of the dialog down. The shouting makes you look just plain weird.