I'm inexplicably dry around the eyeballs. Even when I desperately need and want to cry, I canʼt.
But stick me in front of an emotionally satisfying movie, book or piece of music, and suddenly the floodgates open. Travelling does it to me, too.
I recently cried in the Kalahari. Fullon tears, mercifully while the ranger wasnʼt looking. He was taking me to see meerkats somewhere in the vastness of the countryʼs biggest private reserve, and all of a sudden, on the back of Tswaluʼs Land Rover, my cheeks were wet and I felt as though every molecule in my body had dissolved into the universe.
It made no sense, given how dry it was that evening. Those tears should have evaporated instantly. But I was inundated with unbidden feelings, over-come…