There comes a time in everyone's life where they long for difference. Different vistas, flavors, cultures and lovers. This wanderlust, if you can call it that, is what brought me to a small bar in Seville.

When I bought my ticket, my friends warned me it was a tourist trap. They didn't know that I wanted to be lost in something different. I wanted to get away from my life and start over. A fresh face, a no one. The possibilities for creating a new me were endless. I could very easily design a new life and play on lies in what would be my new home.

But I know very well that I can only be myself.

I closed out my life in Seoul. Paid out of my apartment, found a home for my cats, withdrew all the money from my savings and packed a bag with only a few changes of clothes. I left my company and if I could have, I would have left my name along with me.

I watched the city of my birth pass behind as the plane took off. There's only sorrow there now, memories and reasons to cry that I've been gently erasing from my mind.

Upon arrival to this city I knew very little about, I purchased a leather bound journal from a local shop. I had always been a writer at heart. Near constantly, stories tugged at the hems of my mind like an impatient child eager for attention. I chose to explore this talent in my new life. I would work as a writer, freelance for travel journals, till I either made something for myself or my savings ran out and sent me back home.

The curves of well travelled roads seduced my imagination as I walked down them. I didn't know what I was looking for, I just let my feet carry me. My thirst for more of this lush romance led my feet to a small bar. I knew enough of this foreign language to order a beer and paella.

While I allowed my subconscious the freedom to listen in on conversations only it could understand,  I pulled the journal from my bag and began.

Although I tried to focus on relating my experiences in the city so far, my memories all piled in and I nearly choked a sob. Looking to read over what I had written I found only a beautiful face, it smiled sadly only to reveal a blanket of white. I hadn't written a single word and he wasn't there.