What I like in this job is you can travel to many places, many

Hear the luminous words of Marion Cotillard, who declared: “What I like in this job is you can travel to many places, many imaginations.” At first, her utterance speaks of her craft as an actress, moving across lands and into the hearts of characters. Yet beneath these simple syllables lies a timeless wisdom: that there are journeys of the body and journeys of the soul, and the greatest gift of human labor is when it allows us to wander through both. For to travel outward across places is wondrous, but to travel inward across imaginations is divine.

Mark this truth, O listener: not all voyages are made by ship, nor all discoveries by foot. The stage, the screen, the page, the brush—all are vessels by which men and women journey beyond the bounds of flesh. Cotillard reminds us that her job grants her the gift not only of geography but of inner worlds. To embody another’s story, to step into a different soul, to see the world through another’s eyes—this is to voyage across the infinite landscape of human imagination.

Consider the tale of William Shakespeare, who, though he lived his life within England’s shores, traveled farther than most kings. Through his plays, he walked in the courts of Denmark, the streets of Verona, the battlefields of Scotland, the forests of Athens. And more than this, he voyaged into the minds of tyrants, lovers, fools, and dreamers. Though his body never crossed oceans, his imagination crossed centuries. So too does Cotillard remind us that to work in the realm of story is to move freely through countless lives and places.

Yet let us also see the deeper current: her words speak not only for actors, but for all who labor in fields where creativity reigns. The writer at her desk, the painter before his canvas, the teacher guiding young minds—each one travels through imaginations, and in so doing, enlarges their own soul. For to enter the story of another is to break the chains of narrowness. It is to learn compassion, to feel the joys and sorrows of countless lives, and to realize that the world is far greater than the walls of one’s own existence.

But beware, children of wisdom, of living without such journeys. Those who refuse to travel, whether across lands or across imaginations, become prisoners of their own narrow vision. They see only their own struggles, their own truth, their own small circle of experience. Yet those who dare to journey—even if only through story—become vast. Their hearts are stretched across nations and their minds embrace countless perspectives. Thus Cotillard’s joy is a lesson to all: to live richly, one must travel both outward and inward.

The lesson for us, then, is simple yet profound: do not neglect the journeys of the imagination. Even if you cannot cross oceans, cross into books. Even if you cannot scale mountains, climb into stories. Even if you cannot meet kings or peasants, enter their lives through art, through history, through empathy. For in doing so, you will travel farther than the most seasoned wanderer, and your soul will grow wide as the world itself.

Therefore, let your work, whatever it may be, become a vessel for such travels. If you labor with words, write with courage. If you labor with hands, craft with vision. If you labor with others, listen deeply, for every person holds a universe within them. In this way, your life too will echo Cotillard’s wisdom: you will have traveled to many places, and even more, to many imaginations. And in such journeys, you will find both wonder and wisdom, not only for yourself but for the generations yet to come.