That night, he didn't call his manager to discuss the next leg of the tour. Instead, he booked a one-way flight.
The greatest journey isn't the one that takes you away, but the one that brings you back. He was finally home.
He realized he was "running without moving." He was chasing a horizon that kept receding, forgetting that the only place where his soul actually breathed was a small house with a screen door that creaked.
The lyrics poured out of him like a confession. He didn't want the VIP lounges or the velvet ropes anymore. He wanted his mother’s cooking. He wanted to walk barefoot on the sand without a bodyguard. He wanted to be Mateo again, not the "Artist."