I was here, there and everywhere, you never knew when I was going to show up. I was a traveler.... I was able to creep into every territory of our corner of Europe.

I’m interested in teasing out the moral complications in travel, but I’m not claiming any moral authority on the subject. Traveling, and the estrangement that comes with it — both physical and mental — can be deeply meaningful in many regards. That’s certainly been true for me. Being unsettled and departing from the familiar encourages a certain kind of attention and awakening of curiosity that helps us reach outside of our own skins, and in doing so, makes us consider not only what is unfamiliar to us in our surroundings, but what is unfamiliar to us in ourselves.

Already, I was coming undone, like a hastily tied scarf coming loose, on the ground before the owner is aware of it.

Everywhere I am folded, there I am a lie.

We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways.

Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

But a wide sea voyage severs us at once. It makes us conscious of being cast loose from the secure anchorage of settled life, and sent adrift upon a doubtful world. It interposes a gulf, not merely imaginary, but real, between us and our homes — a gulf, subject to tempest, and fear, and uncertainty, rendering distance palpable, and return precarious.

I do not know where I am going. But I am quite weary enough of where I’ve been.

To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.

Not for one second will my self hold still, but wanders anywhere, everywhere it can turn. Not you, it is I am absent.

I always feel that I am a traveler, going somewhere and to some destination.

If I tell myself that the somewhere and the destination do not exist, that seems to me very likely and reasonable enough.

The brothel keeper, when he kicks anyone out, has similar logic, argues it well, and is always right, I know. So at the end of the course I shall find my mistake. Be it so. I shall find then that not only the Arts, but everything else as well, were only dreams, that one's self was nothing at all.

To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong.

Instead of traveling, I tend to think about a variety of things while filming or working abroad. When I play a different role, my perspectives and ideas change each time.