I am not a sunbather, I am not functional midday. I do not like the echoing vibrations of sunlight sweating off the pavement or needles of heat penetrating my pores and expelling the moisture from my organs. It takes a special surrounding to rouse me from 11am AC hibernation, like a garden alive with rushing trickling ponds and flowers reminding me of pasta shells & trumpets. Continue reading “photobook | sunken gardens, st. petersburg”
I almost never recall the negative moments of travel – or, leastwise, I don’t dwell on them. Such a lack of attention is rare for me. I usually swipe through all the markers in a timeline, pause on everything, either smile in elation or sigh in defeat. I know on my second Orlando road trip, I struggled on day two. But it is not the most prevalent recollection. Thank goodness. Continue reading “roam | orlando pt. 2”
Ambling within the Morikami pathway truly embodied the word amble. Relaxed. Unrushed. Beneath the intermittent sun-cloud dance so typical of Florida afternoons, I brushed past overhanging flower bushes, peeked through clusters of bamboo knocking against one another like hollow drums, clicked my camera when appropriate. Time was unhurried here, measured in footsteps and cycles of bright and shadow, the background music fountains and cicadas and the crunches of wild animals flitting or themselves meandering in the underbrush. Continue reading “photobook | fort lauderdale, pt 2: morikami museum & japanese gardens”
The venture east to the Atlantic Coast: a barren rustic mind-numbing diagonal segue speckled with cows, occasional cargo trains huffing through threads of brush, a roadside meat smoker here and there with pluming black clouds curling upwards. Continue reading “roam | west palm/jupiter & fort lauderdale, pt 1: coffee”
Here in Denver none of my footfalls ended in me shattering my tailbone. I think residing in Sweden for six months, much of it in the brunt of winter, prepared me for snowy sidewalks and hidden clumps of ice and the stray zephyr to find some flaw in my bundled attire. I expected Denver’s 10-30 degree days to bite, but I expected deeper toothmarks. My extremities were likely the worst off. My socks ripped on day one, and I used them later not to protect my toes but to scrub scarlet hair dye off a pillowcase. Continue reading “city guide | denver, co.”
I and my sister are theoretically preparing for a visit to Seattle this winter, but in the meantime we both craved a mini-adventure to tide us over until the great expedition comes to fruition. One steamy July night, after a couple of beers and cheap storebought pizza, we pulled Savannah out of the hat as our choice. Away we went on July 27, pre-dawn, coffees in hand and bags stuffed in the trunk. Continue reading “explorations | savannah + jacksonville”
A weekend barely satisfied my San Diego itch. Yet I felt amazed at all my sister & I accomplished over the short period we were together. Day one found us perusing the downtown district, specifically the Gaslamp & Seaport Village, tasting mimosas and huevos rancheros and biding time with coffee in our hands. We also spent an embarrassing amount of time in the little white Chevy rental recharging our phones and dabbling in bizarre conversations. As we do. Continue reading “explorations | san diego pt. 2: south park, north park & breweries”
I needed this trip. Just as I’ve needed every single pause in my reality, when friends visit for a day or when I drive out to another city just to purge myself of the parasitic elements of my home region. Nothing like watching the wind blow over the wings of an airplane, and feeling eager to land amongst the lights below, to help reclaim some semblance of joy, even if the purity of the sentiment lasts only a weekend. Continue reading “explorations | san diego pt. 1: downtown”
When the tummy grumbles, so does the mouth.
I make quite a grand transition when I’m hungry: from smiley 20 year-old to 7 plates of pasta and murder.