To all those people who think that flying isn't the definitive way of travelling, and confront a journey by bus from one country to the other.
The bus. The ultimate cart towed by invisible mules.
To the ones who sit in impossibly small spaces between seats and dive into the night, watching the sleepy, dark landscape flowing by.
Maybe they'll dream of where they will go next.
Or maybe these people are the dreamers, moving around, seeing friends or family scattered around Europe without minding the two or three days it will take to reach them.
To all of you who split a journey in many legs, a bit by bus, the other bit by train, the final one hitchhiking perhaps. Because the journey is a dimension in itself, a suspended sphere, an experience.
Sometimes uplifting, sometimes exhausting.
Dedicated to those who consider the means of travelling more important than the destination.