Part of me wants to sit down and tell elaborate and detailed stories of these magic moments in france. Stories like my dreams– where every detail, even just an emotion feels real and tangible. Part of me wants to say nothing. A whole post with only photos, and no words. Something I rarely do.Sometimes I have a hard time knowing exactly what I want or how I feel or what would be best. But don’t we all? I’d like to think it’s a common thread between being human. Emotions, they’re tough. I only have good emotions left behind from this trip. And in general lately. Even the things that should feel complicated, feel okay. For the first time in my life I feel patient… or somewhat patient about the unknown and the in-between. I’m trying to feel good, without feeling complacent about the lack of clarity I have right now. I’m really not sure where I’ll be a year from now, but right now things are good. These experiences are good. These emotions are good.
Alex made a comment about how we seemed so ordinary compared to so many of the people we met this weekend. I kindly disagreed. Everyone we met had remarkable stories and lives– but I don’t ever see us as lacking. There are too many days where I feel so normal and look down (literally look down) at what I’m doing or what I’m holding or whats in front of me and think, “man this life and story is pretty cool.”
Dirt. From the hillside of a vineyard in a town of 331 people in France. A gift.
“these are the pictures that people paint.”
Happy thursday, friends. Happy last day of the retrograde.
What Marlowe Eats will be up tomorrow.