My legs tighten. One last push. Over another bump in the gravel and the climb finally gives way, opening out into a plateau. A stretch of green rice fields ahead, the sun catching on the flooded plains. Zebra doves make their mechanical whirring sound overhead as a worker in a conical hat walks past.

After enough time on the road, travel stops being about places and starts becoming about perception. Not what you see, but how it quietly rewires what you thought you knew.

Having a third space is having a place outside of your home or workplace to convene or to relax. It might be purposeful, like a pub or a café. Or it could be something less obvious, like a park or a beach.

On a flight from Kuala Lumpur to Cebu, I look down and spot a cluster of small tropical islands off the coast of Borneo. All green jungle, ringed by white sand and clear turquoise water.