By Cara Amy Goldthorpe | Featured Contributor
It’s a misty dawn, the ocean and sky merging together as one in the distance, behind the ethereal golden glow of the rising sun. I’m in my hammock sipping coffee and flicking through an old journal I bought at the end of March last year, when I was settling in for “lockdown” in Costa Rica. Back then I thought I’d be flying to London in late April, when the borders were originally forecast to reopen.
Now, I’m still here and contemplating putting every penny I own into purchasing land. It’s just raw land: no structures on it. I’m not quite sure how I’ll make the purchase happen, let alone the project I envisage, and how I’ll have money for basic sustenance when I’m done. But I feel a pull, deep inside me. A voice is telling me that I have to make this happen.