Why did my passport expire while my gear sits unused?

I once bought the finest fishing net in the bazaar. Green as the sea, strong as a wrestler's arm. I hung it on my wall and told every visitor the story of that net — how far I'd cast it, how many fish, how my grandchildren would eat well. Ten years later, a moth ate through it. I never once got my feet wet. This is not about willpower. Somewhere along the way, buying the gear, printing the itinerary, renewing the visa in your head — all of it gave you the same warm feeling the actual trip was supposed to give. You spent the feeling early. The passport just kept quiet, honest records of the account. None of this means you don't want to go. It means the wanting found a shortcut and took it. The fix isn't a bigger dream — it's a smaller door. Walk through one this week.