Love Quote by Tom Jenkinson

Traveling, for Jenkinson, isn’t the glossy “broaden your horizons” postcard version. It’s an appetite for frictionless identity: moving through the world unclaimed, unpinned, free from the social paperwork that comes with belonging. “Going about on my own” lands like a quiet manifesto for solitude as fuel, not deprivation. In a culture that sells constant connectivity as health, he frames disconnection as a chosen state - a way to keep the signal clean.

The subtext is that roots are double-edged. They’re stability, yes, but also obligation: family narratives, hometown scripts, scenes that expect you to stay legible. Saying he has “no roots” isn’t necessarily self-pity; it’s a kind of self-engineering. For a musician, especially one associated with obsessive craft and electronic experimentation, rootlessness can be practical: the mind stays portable, the ear stays curious, the self doesn’t calcify into a brand.

It also hints at the modern romance of the itinerant artist, and its cost. Rootlessness sounds liberating until you remember roots aren’t just anchors; they’re nourishment. The line is compelling because it doesn’t resolve that tension. It’s both a pleasure and a confession: he loves the weightlessness even if it implies a life lived a little above the ground, always in motion, never quite arriving anywhere long enough to be held.