He did not think of himself as a tourist; he was a traveler. The difference is partly one of time, he would explain. Whereas the tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks of months, the traveler, belonging no more to one place than to the next, moves slowly, over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another.  Indeed, he would have found it difficult to tell, among the many places he had lived, precisely where it was he had felt most at home. 

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

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