There is a rhythm to wandering, a beat that only those who have walked the earth without a fixed destination can hear. I know this rhythm intimately. My name is Cody, and for nearly ten years, I have let my feet carve my story. From New York to Panama, my path has been one of survival, discovery, and connection. My home is wherever my feet grow tired, and my companions are those who cross my path, even for a fleeting moment.
One evening, in the heart of Mexico, a conversation unfolds. The air is thick with sea breeze, the scent of food lingers, and between sips of beer and shared cigarettes, we talk. The topics shift like waves against the shore—Mexico City, friendship, the illusion of money, the meaning of life. Someone asks me where I have lived in Mexico City, and my answer is elusive. Five days in the capital, but I did not truly experience the street. My stay was with a wealthy woman, a plastic surgeon, and her husband, a world apart from where I feel most at home: the raw, unpolished reality of the ghetto.
“When my feet get tired, that’s where I live.”
Wandering has made me who I am, a man with no fixed address but an unshakable purpose. I have slept in ten thousand homes, and I have been welcomed by those who have nothing but still share everything. Unlike those who measure wealth in coins, I measure mine in experiences. My tattoos are not just ink; they are my scars, the chapters of my life inscribed on my skin. Each mark brings back a story, a moment of pain or triumph, a lesson carved in flesh.
Through it all, art has remained my constant companion. Painting with watercolors, smudging pigment with my fingers, using beetroot juice, coffee, or whatever is available. “Life is a school,” I say. “You don’t need a classroom to learn.” Art, to me, is like the road—unpredictable, free-flowing, uncontrollable. The paint follows water, just as life follows time. I let it move. I don’t force it. Sometimes, the best things happen when we let go.
Beyond art, my real project is building something more than just pictures. A home, a town, a sustainable place where the poor can rise to middle class, and in turn, teach the middle class humility. A community built on something real. Not concrete, not greed, but recycled plastic, repurposed into domes that will house those who have nothing. Society has conditioned us to believe in money, in ownership, in false lights, in structured prisons. We are raised in cribs with bars, under fluorescent lights, in tiny apartments that mimic cages. But I have seen another way.
I was deported once. Left wandering, attacked, my memory shattered. I walked, bones broken, spirit beaten but never destroyed. The streets became my teacher, the voices of the forgotten my textbooks. I have lived amongst the people, in their towns, in their homes. I have slept on their floors, eaten at their tables, shared their laughter and their pain. I have lost friends, I have gained others, and some faces I do not remember. I live with the consequence of experience, with the past haunting my present, always pushing forward.
I don’t believe in wealth the way others do. I believe in something deeper.
The people of the street, La Banda, as we call it, understand something that the rich often do not. They know how to share, how to listen, how to exist outside the illusion. We don’t need paper bills to find meaning. We need each other. We need to be present. We need to see the person across from us as a fellow traveler, another being caught in this strange, chaotic, beautiful thing we call life.
I have danced in hostels, eaten in restaurants, and watched the stars from the sand. I have seen how people treat one another when they are free, and I have seen how society shapes minds into cages. “They train us like monkeys,” I say. We are taught to obey, to strive for things that are not real—money, status, power. But in the end, when the road stretches before you, none of it matters. The only thing that remains is the journey.
I am not a teacher, but I am a student of life. I share my stories not for glory, not for fame, but because wisdom is not something you read in books. Wisdom is experience. It is living, falling, breaking, and getting back up again. It is knowing that when you are down, you need hugs, too. It is knowing that when you lose everything—your memory, your home, your mother—you still have the road, the people, the sky above you, the earth below. You are never truly lost if you keep moving.
My vision is clear. A world that values people over possessions, art over industry, experience over illusion. I do not want to die before I have truly lived. I have already given everything to charity once before. I do not fear death, because if it comes, I will simply return and try again.
Life is not a book. It is not a script. It is a painting, a song, a journey. And I am still walking, still searching, still listening.
3TH PERSON
There is a rhythm to wandering, a beat that only those who have stepped beyond the rigid lines of society can hear. It is the sound of feet meeting the earth, of conversations melting into the wind, of stories that are never written but instead carried in the folds of old clothes and the scars on a traveler’s skin.
In a dimly lit space, where the air is thick with the scent of salt and distant memories, voices merge into a strange harmony. A man named Cody speaks. His words slip between English and Spanish, a testament to a life that has dissolved the borders that others swear by. He has walked from New York to Panama—a journey of nearly a decade—trading money for experience, material possessions for the weight of the moment.
“When my feet get tired, that’s where I live,” he says. A statement so simple, yet so profound. It is the philosophy of the nomad, a person who has surrendered to the road, who has let the wind decide the direction. Unlike the rest of us, who build houses to contain our lives, Cody builds stories in the spaces where others only see passing landscapes.
There is talk of Mexico City, of wealthy women who offer kindness, of plastic surgeons who mold faces but not souls. He has stayed in elegant places but does not belong there. He belongs to the streets, to the chaos, to “La Banda.” In a world obsessed with labels, he defies categorization.
Travel, in this sense, is not about crossing geographical distances but about stepping outside of the mind’s cages. “The mind is the problem,” Cody muses. “Not you. Not us.” He speaks of society as an illusion, a great stage where we are conditioned to play roles we never agreed to. We are taught from birth, he claims, to be prisoners—our first crib, a metaphor for a jail cell, the flickering lights of screens replacing the sun.
And yet, there is beauty. In the streets, in the nights without sleep, in the conversations with strangers who become family for a night.
“I have the scars of life,” Cody says, pointing to his tattoos. “Every decision I’ve ever made is right here.” His body is a canvas, a book where every line is a chapter, every wound a lesson. The permanence of ink mirrors the permanence of experience—proof that he has lived, that he has made choices, and that he carries them with him wherever he goes.
In another corner of the conversation, art takes center stage. There is talk of watercolors, of painting with beetroot juice, of using coffee instead of ink. Art, like life, is about adapting to what is available. “I take my brush, and I tap the color in,” one speaker explains. “I don’t even paint it. I just tap it in.”
It is a metaphor for life itself. You don’t always need to force things; sometimes, you let them happen. You let the paint move, the colors blend naturally. Just as water allows pigments to flow freely, unimpeded by rigid borders, so too should life. A heavy hand only smears the canvas; precision comes from understanding when to push and when to let go.
Beyond art, the conversation turns to deeper wounds. The loss of a mother, the pain of memory, and the trauma of deportation. “All day they tried to kill me,” Cody shares, recounting an attack that left him lost and injured on a distant beach. Memory itself becomes an unstable currency. “Some people don’t respect me because I look at them, and I can’t remember them,” he laments. He carries his scars like a book only he can read.
The talk shifts to the nature of human connection. “All you gotta do is pay attention to something that’s needed and it’s done,” Cody says, capturing the simplicity of genuine human care. His words echo a fundamental truth: love is not a complex concept. It is presence. It is witnessing another’s pain. It is understanding even when you cannot understand.
Perhaps this is why he is drawn to La Banda, the community that embraces him despite his troubles, despite his past. The rich places do not appeal to him, only the streets where people, regardless of their possessions, see one another. “The person more crazy, the person more complex.” This belief—that those who have lived through the most hardship carry the deepest wisdom—follows throughout the conversation.
From the physical toll of his journey—nine years, barefoot, from New York to Panama—to the emotional weight of his mother’s death, Cody speaks as a man who has both lost and gained everything. His vision is simple yet grand: “I want my own town. I want to clean up the world of plastic. I want to create a community that teaches the poor to be middle class, so they can teach the middle class how to be humble.”
There is hope beneath the weight of his words. Despite his struggles, there is a belief in the capacity for change. A belief in action. In shaping the world differently, not by controlling it, but by recognizing its beauty and coexisting with it. It is a vision of a new kind of world, one where humanity unshackles itself from the invisible chains of consumerism and conformity.
What is wisdom, after all? To Cody, it is not something learned in books, nor is it a skill passed down from institutions. “Wisdom is experience,” he insists. It is something you live through, something that embeds itself into your skin like ink from a tattoo, becoming an inseparable part of who you are.
His tattoos tell his story. Scars and ink, carved into flesh like etchings in a sacred text that only those who care will read. A record of pain, of love, of days that blurred into nights over a decade of wandering across continents, searching for something he cannot yet name.
Perhaps this journey—like a long, improvised song, half-sung in English, half-mumbled in Spanish—has no real destination. Perhaps the point is to keep moving, to feel the ground only when you stop. To float, just enough, between reality and dreams. And so he walks.
Bibliographical References:
- Baumeister, R. F., & Leary, M. R. (1995). The need to belong: Desire for interpersonal attachments as a fundamental human motivation. Psychological Bulletin, 117(3), 497-529.
- Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. Harper & Row.
- Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s search for meaning. Beacon Press.
- Harari, Y. N. (2011). Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. Harper Perennial.
- Baumeister, R. F., & Leary, M. R. (1995). The need to belong: Desire for interpersonal attachments as a fundamental human motivation. Psychological Bulletin, 117(3), 497-529.
Detection of Names, Ages, Birthplaces, Hobbies, and Relevant Information
Names:
- Cody (One of the main speakers)
- Berta (Mentioned at the end)
- Dante (Mentioned in relation to a personal experience)
Ages:
- A person mentions working as a carpenter since age 11 and paying for their mother’s car at 16.
- Someone talks about walking from New York to Panama for around 9.5 years, implying they are likely in their late 20s or older.
Birthplaces:
- One speaker lived in Mexico City for five days but traveled throughout Mexico.
- He mentions that he was deported from Florida, suggesting he lived there at some point.
Hobbies:
- Travel: One person walked from New York to Panama over nearly ten years.
- Art: One speaker discusses drawing and painting with watercolor pencils and using unconventional materials like beetroot juice and coffee for painting.
- Music: There is a mention of playing the guitar and making music.
- Carpentry: One person claims to have been a carpenter for 16 years and started working at age 11.
- Tattoos: A speaker talks about his tattoos as a representation of his life experiences.
- Philosophy: The conversation is filled with philosophical discussions about life, existence, and societal structures.
Relevant Information:
- One speaker appears to have lived in Mexico City for around five days but did not experience much of the streets due to staying with a wealthy friend.
- One of the individuals has been traveling on foot through different towns for five and a half years, mainly living in poor areas.
- There is a mention of a plastic surgeon friend in Mexico City.
- One speaker was deported from Florida, was attacked, lost his memory, and had a broken bone while traveling in Panama.
- He claims to have lived in Mexico for five and a half years and is looking for land to establish a project.
- Someone expresses the desire to build a sustainable community using recycled plastic for domes.
- Another person describes a strong emotional connection to their tattoos, saying they tell the story of their life.
- There are deep discussions on existentialism, the meaning of life, and personal struggles.
2. Detection of Important Phrases/Words and Their Meanings
- “When my feet get tired, that’s where I live.” → Represents a transient, nomadic lifestyle, moving from place to place.
- “I walked from New York to Panama.” → Reflects a long journey of self-discovery, adventure, and survival.
- “I was jumped after deported.” → Indicates past trauma and violence after being deported from Florida.
- “The scars of life.” → Metaphor for past struggles, experiences, and hardships that shape a person.
- “Life is a school.” → Philosophy that life itself teaches more than formal education.
- “You’re a cat, too.” → Possible metaphor for independence, curiosity, or resilience.
- “My project is a sustainable dome.” → Idea of using recycled plastic to build homes for people in need.
- “I lost my memory.” → Suggests past trauma or hardships that may have affected mental health.
- “They train us like monkeys.” → Possibly a reference to societal conditioning and control.
- “I walked from New York to Panama.” → Indicates a long, unconventional life journey and a search for something beyond the material world.
- “I have the scars of life.” → A metaphor for lived experiences shaping a person’s identity.
Main Topics in the Transcript
- A Life of Wanderlust and Nomadism
One of the central themes is the nomadic lifestyle, with one speaker sharing experiences of traveling on foot from New York to Panama for nearly a decade. The journey is presented as an odyssey, a mix of adventure, hardship, and discovery. - Friendship and Connection
The conversation highlights deep human connections formed while traveling. A key moment is the story about a rich woman who invited the speaker to Mexico City, treating him kindly. Another key moment is when the person talks about how they have met many people and lost contact with some, symbolizing the transient nature of relationships. - Materialism vs. Simplicity → One speaker rejects the conventional pursuit of wealth and material possessions, advocating instead for a minimalist lifestyle close to nature. There is a recurring theme of rejecting societal norms, such as wealth, structured education, and conventional ways of living.
- The Illusion of Modern Society → The conversation touches on themes related to the idea that modern life is an illusion, referencing “The Matrix,” suggesting that people are conditioned to accept societal structures without questioning them. The speaker sees the world as manipulated, where even language and the media influence perceptions of reality.
- Art and Self-Expression → There is a detailed discussion about painting and creating art, with a special focus on watercolors and even alternative art methods like using natural pigments (e.g., beetroot and carrot juice). The idea of creating art with natural materials is seen as a metaphor for creativity being innate and free from external structures.
- Trauma and Healing → One of the speakers shares personal experiences of loss (such as losing their mother and being attacked after deportation). They discuss the emotional weight of their past and how they process it, touching on mental health, trauma, and the importance of human connection.
- Philosophy of Self-Discovery → One of the dominant themes is that life is about learning through experiences rather than formal education. The speaker sees wisdom as something gained through direct experience rather than books.
- The Concept of a Sustainable Future → The speaker shares a vision of a project to build self-sufficient communities using recycled plastic domes. This is part of a larger ideology about creating a better world outside of current societal norms.
4. Summary of the Transcript
The conversation captures a deep, free-flowing dialogue between individuals discussing life, travel, philosophy, and personal experiences. One speaker, possibly named Cody, recounts an extensive journey from New York to Panama, detailing experiences of survival, connection, and personal transformation. The discussion also explores alternative ways of living, rejecting materialism, and embracing a minimalist, nomadic lifestyle.
Another key topic is the importance of art and self-expression, with a focus on painting using natural pigments and a strong emotional connection to tattoos as a form of storytelling. The dialogue also delves into trauma and recovery, with one speaker sharing an incident of memory loss after being attacked post-deportation. There is an underlying philosophical discussion on the nature of reality, the societal structures that shape human behavior, and the need for human connection. The conversation concludes with a vision for a sustainable project that seeks to uplift the impoverished using eco-friendly, self-sustaining communities made from recycled plastic domes.
