He has a guitar, a suitcase, and the sort of confidence usually seen in people who have not checked the distance on a map. Nocturne at the Cornline begins where the road gets quiet and every direction starts pretending it might lead somewhere better.

Leaving home can hold hope and grief in the same hand. The future calls, but so do the people, places, and unfinished stories left behind. He is not traveling because home meant nothing; he is traveling because the dream became too large to remain there.