Why Life Is Compared to a Journey

Why can life be compared to travel?

If someone had asked me this question when I was a child, I would have understood only the word “travel”in spite of the fact that I was a bright pupil. When I was in the first Form I drew two pictures for my portfolio: “My family” and “My dream”. Inthe second picture I portrayed myself on board a shipnear an island with three palm-trees. I had never been a good artist, but I was a dreamer… I was absolutely in love with “The Frigates’ Drivers” by N. Chukovsky. I read all of my father’s magazines “Around the world” and admired every colourful picture in it. I used to wake up earlier than all my family did on Sundays to watch “Their Customs” with D. Zakharov. At that time I dreamt of an exciting journey, though I was allowed to travel not farther than in the neighboring yard or the nearest store for bread and milk.

But now, being a 16-year-old, somewhat no-longer-a-child-but-not-an-adult-yet, this question evokes some different feelings and ideas. When you get older, you give this question a slightly different meaning, perhaps, more philosophical. I consider life itself to be a kind of travelling to your identity, your way, travelling into the depths of the unknown. Life can be understood differently as during one’s life-span a person actually runs through several lives: a biological life, a social life, a psychological life, a historical life. It means that a person can die more than once. Consequently, these sides of life give you a chance of travelling in your country’s or family’s history, into your imagination…

My travelling has just begun. That’s why I can’t yet give a deep and profound answer to this question. I’m going to keep this composition until I become an adult. Then, having gained some more of life experience, I will continue it.