The lyrics of the new Cave Singers album are streaming through R, through L, to meet and bounce around in the void that falls in between. And I’m enjoying a blissful little reverie (something I do often, something I do well) in anticipation for my travels. I envision photos being taken of me and my partner leaning backwards over the edges of fountains with shiny coins flickering in the foreign light. Hold tight. I see the Eiffel tower all aglow, people ticking by hand-in-hand, the moon shining like a beacon from above, reminding me of home. Home sweet home. The stones, the grass, the air, even the water, they’re all the same elements but they're different there. Old sights are newly born when they hit these fresh eyes. Happy birthday. Raw, beautiful, broken and still standing tall, enveloped in perfumes, standing in the shade of some new building, it will be the same, but different. And so will I. A corner shop, a rip of a baguette, a glug of young wine. Our pedestrian lifestyle showing in his olive skin, in the freckles dressing up my fair complexion, and in the shimmer of strawberry blonde in the strands of my hair...Alive.
Will I see that part of the world primarily through a viewfinder? Possibly, but seeing is seeing. With photos I’ll be able to keep those sights fresh. My small, fragile journals lie ready with their blanched pages. Each is the weight of a feather, only to be weighed down by my words. To wander, to shoot photos, to write all in a variety-pack worth of places. There will be beautiful moments had, many to which I know will be accompanied by my tears: some happy, some sad, and maybe some just because. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I’m looking forward to leaving the country. To go someplace with unfamiliar sounds, unfamiliar people, and unfamiliar views: A true sensory cleanse.
"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each."~Henry David Thoreau