What’s in a bag?

Stepping off the well-worn path, I clasp the straps of my backpack and I stand up straighter. I am not alone. A backpack is a companion. A partner on a journey into the unknown. A pillow on a long train ride. Oftentimes, the only one who has witnessed the quiet lines in story of who I am. A backpack is a time capsule. Each scuff a memory, each crinkle an ode to a day that’s passed. I have filled it to the brim with all the tools and trappings of a day worth remembering. Placed my trust and hopes and treasures inside. Treasures that have traveled time and distances, too precious to leave behind. A backpack is an artifact. One day, curious historians may inspect it with a magnifying glass, hoping to find in its stitches a roadmap of a path that was once taken. But it’s a puzzle that can only be decoded by a solo traveler, and a single artisan who stitched into it stories of their own. Through the years, I’ve discovered that it’s never really possible to visit the same place twice. Along the way, much has changed, both around me and inside me, making a place that was once familiar feel quite strange indeed. But the seams and pockets of my backpack I know like lines of my palms, memorizing the exact choreography required to stretch my arm behind me and retrieve what’s inside. At the end of each adventure, life settles back into a familiar rhythm. But a strange and mysterious beat steadily grows louder, one to which I paced my steps on journeys in distant lands. A sense of wonder is awakened again that can no longer be ignored. Knowing there are more questions than answers in the road that lies ahead, I reach for my trusted travel companion, toss it over my shoulder, and step again into the unknown.

For Amasouk - maker of heritage bags.