The roots seem a tangled mess–it’s difficult to believe they’re part of a living, breathing organism. Everywhere you look, there’s only water and mangrove trees–no real shore to speak of.
Archive for February, 2012
His name is Predrag Petrović—Pepi for short, he tells me. A potter from the island of Iz, just off the Dalmatian coast, and I’ve traveled nearly a thousand miles to meet him.
It’s that time again. No, not time to renew my driver’s license or start spring cleaning [although it probably wouldn’t hurt]…It’s time to start my next book.
Suddenly, we’re chasing the sun, re-tracing our steps through the old town, taking photos of the same scenes we’d captured hours earlier—only this time, it’s like someone said, “Let there be light.”
No matter how normal a journey it was to the station, the moment I crossed the line, I was suddenly in a bygone era when travel was an elegant affair to dress up for.
From the Pont de l’Archevêché in Paris to the Rialto in Venice, there is hardly a famous bridge that hasn’t been claimed by couples eager to profess their love to the world. An old railway bridge in Cologne is no different.
It’s been over two years since I visited the Thai capitol with my mother and our family friends, but the colors and textures of the city still make for a great escape from the greyed-out monochromaticness of London.
Over the past year, I’ve been trying to slowly add to my list of UK destinations outside London. To travel around the country enough so that my perception of England isn’t just, well, England = London.
It was the perfect kind of night for a snowfall: me with nowhere to go, a warm flat to cozy up in, and a friend’s manuscript to read through–all while watching the world turn white.
As much as I loved life on a black pearl farm in French Polynesia, it was our weekly trips to Ahe’s village that I looked forward to the most–for the movement they offered to our routine and for the chance to be a part of the community.