It’s 8am and I’m typing in a bed. A bed. The sheets feel more like linen than cotton on my feet and wrapped around me is my shirt infused with yesterday’s sweat between the threads. This, my friends, is bliss.
Though, there are different kinds of bliss. There’s something to cherish about sore feet after a day full of walking, a pride one can only get from a bit of wear and tear. The constant displacement from new town to new town is refreshing; drinking in all the new details, losing myself in them, it’s a wonder I remember which day of the week it is (it’s Wednesday right?)
I’m currently working in Photoshop for the SBYF Project Blog along with creating our upcoming newsletter (exciting stuff coming your way!), and so translating the disparate thoughts, sketches and murmors I’ve recorded in my sketchbooks along the way will have to wait. I want to talk about the bittersweetness of seeing old friends and the surreal passage of time it invokes. I want to mention the delight when I get a brief smell and taste of sea water on my lips. I want to write about the process of creating a new website, bit by bit before I go to bed, or about hiking two miles across center city Boston while sandbag carrying my gear. I want to share how passionately in love I am with America and its artistic communities, how it makes me want to march right up atop one of these mountains and just shout my devotion. I want to declare how proud I am of every library in every community and the shiver I get when I walk into one with Matt, present the project and see the person on the other side of the counter wipe away the dust that got into her eye. I want to share how I’m moved when I nod at the passerby and he nods back with a smile.
Instead I’ll let the few photographs below do the talking for me.
[ PLE ] 