Every journey begins long before the first step. We have always believed that movement appears when our feet leave a place behind. Yet the true journey begins when something stops fitting within us. When a question finds no answer. That is when the path is born. Not the one made of earth. Not the one that separates villages, mountains or continents. The other one. The invisible one. The one that links who we are with what we may still become.
For thousands of years, humanity has walked that path without realising it. It has crossed oceans, raised cities, explored deserts and reached the stars, believing it was searching for new horizons. But beneath every expedition, beneath every conquest and every discovery, the same question always existed: “Where are we heading?” Not as a species. Not as a civilisation. As individuals. Because the universe has never struggled to expand. The struggle has always been ours.
Maps were born to solve that problem. The first were simple lines drawn on wet sand, improvised marks made by hands afraid of being lost. Then came scrolls, navigation charts, atlases, coordinates, and glowing screens capable of showing any place in the world. And still, human beings continued to lose their way. Because no map was ever designed to answer the important questions. None shows where love begins. None warns where a friendship ends. None reveals the distance between two memories. None tells us how to return to a version of ourselves we left behind years ago.
The most important paths have never appeared on paper. And yet, they exist. Hermes always knew this. Long before humanity named him, before they built statues in his honour or told stories of winged sandals and divine messages, he was already walking those unseen routes. Because Hermes was never merely a messenger. He was something older. The force that connects. The presence that appears between an origin and a destination. Between a farewell and a reunion. Humans imagined him as a god because they needed to understand what they could not see. But Hermes does not belong to temples. He belongs to crossroads. To those moments when life demands a choice. When staying becomes uncomfortable. And moving forward becomes inevitable.
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