Where I Want to Go

Ever since I first saw pictures of those towering Moai statues on Easter Island, something in me lit up. I don’t know if it was their mystery, their ancient stillness, or just the fact that they stood so far from everything else—but I knew I had to go there someday. It’s not just about visiting a new place; it feels more like answering a call from the edge of the world.

But before I get there, I want to land in Santiago. There’s something about the energy of Chile’s capital that draws me in. I picture myself walking through the city, the Andes watching over me from a distance, the air filled with the scent of street food and coffee. I want to get lost in markets, hear music in the plazas, maybe stumble into a poetry reading without understanding every word—but still feeling every bit of it. I want to sip wine under warm lights and let the city open up like a story.

Then, Easter Island. The flight there feels almost unreal to imagine—hours over open water, flying toward the middle of nowhere. But I want that quiet. I want to stand in front of the Moai and look into the faces carved centuries ago. I want to feel the wind and the ocean and the space. I want to be still.

This trip—it’s not just about going somewhere new. It’s about chasing something I’ve always felt in my chest: wonder, connection, and the thrill of being small in a world that’s still full of mystery.