“The wind is blowing.”
“Where did the wind come from?”
“Well, the wind came from the heart.”
“My heart is breaking.”

This book is a record of the people and times the author met in foreign countries during his extensive travels in the past.
From the small town of Fez in Morocco to the Sahara Desert.
"Where the Heart Blows" is a record of the events that led me to discover my "heart" through travel, during a time when I was wandering around the world in search of my lost heart.


“Actually, I have written a lot, but I have not yet shown even half of my inner self.
There are still many landscapes that have not been shown yet.
I thought that there would be a time when I would have to tell the story, and that it would be okay to bring it up now.
I slowly open it with careful, trembling hands, as if I were unfolding a carefully folded map that had been kept deep in an old drawer.
Something you absolutely must do someday.
The task of rearranging the scattered paths and completing the map of memory.
“Now, I can write, now I have to write, and now I feel like I can write.” _ [From the text]

So, the freedom of the past must have been buried in the grave of the heart for a long time.
Whenever a memory tried to rise from the center of my mind and wake me up, life trampled it down again.
Even though I was busy and struggling to make ends meet, there were things I could not give up and held onto in my crushed and broken heart: the stories of the people I met during my countless wanderings and travels, and the feelings they left behind.

No one knows about it, no one recognizes it, but it holds a map more valuable than anyone else's, so it lives on like a small spark and does not die. This is the one fairy tale that allows me to live on this journey called life.
I am currently writing as an independent author.
I thought maybe now I was walking along my inner map and on a different journey than before.

"If you don't know where to walk, you can walk without knowing.
The road is just a road, no matter where it is, and I only walk myself.
"It's not about 'where to go', but 'what kind of mindset should you have wherever you go' that's important."

Now, here I am, unbeknownst to anyone, on an inner journey called life.


I've been sick for a long time.
I was so sick that I felt like I would die if I didn't leave, and I spent several days lying in bed in a cold sweat.
When I feel like I'll die if I don't walk the unknown, when my heart pounds and I can't calm it, when I don't know how to control it, when I tie my shoelaces again with a feeling of resignation that this is how I have to live.
I thought life was sleepwalking or something close to an incurable disease.
An indefinable disease was beating red like a heart on the carpet of life.
If you can't reject illness, you have no choice but to cure it with illness, but on this planet, a life of wandering was not easily permitted.


Perhaps now we can define life's journey in this way.
I can't go any further, I have nowhere else to go, this is the place I must go.


I've become a little bit stronger, a little bit more resilient, and I can sit still and watch the world beyond without wandering around.
What I gained from my travels was that I had built an inner map that would allow me to no longer wander, and that within this map I had a home of the mind where I would no longer have to shiver in the cold, where I could sleep and rest in peace.
No longer did I have to wander in search of a comfortable home, I had a place to go and a place to return to.

--- From the text