“Ce n'è ancora, di strada”

Got back from Big Sur last night and I miss it so much I could cry. To deal with my post Sur blues, I’m photo-dumping these snaps from my phone and playing Bon Iver’s For Emma on repeat (the album that heals all heart wounds). A weak means of reliving the past couple of days. But I need this vicarious consumption.

Ah, what I would give to be back on the cliffs, listening to Holocene, with the deep blue Pacific to my left and endless green redwoods to my right. I want to trek dirt trails amidst rolling brooks and tall trees. I want to sleep under the stars and moon. I want to watch the sun set on Bixby Bridge. I want to picnic in Andrew Molera, kombucha in hand, whilst waves crash gently below my feet. I want to sit in the cool serenity of Henry Miller’s library. Eat at Nepenthe. Hang out the car’s rooftop window with the crisp sea air hitting me in the face and miles and miles and miles of beauty. There’s nothing better than that feeling.

O, Big Sur was like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. But here I am, awake, and missing it like crazy.

(Stay tuned for film photos & more off the road nostalgia)

xx

Signs and Stars

 There is something incredibly Romantic about road trips. I love the freedom of driving on sun-streaked roads with the windows down and the music up just as much as the next Kerouac-inspired twenty-something, but my favorite moments take place at night. Those quiet rides in the dark amidst a handful of other yellowred car lights illuminating the shadows inside. I like to imagine the lives of the faces we pass. He's going to pick up a lover he hasn't seen in months. They're embarking on a grand adventure somewhere or nowhere at all. That no-destination driving and driving and driving until a feeling hits. A great epiphany. Or some sort of eternity. 

We were headed somewhere-- since that's the point of most road trips. A destination.

Spent a few days off the grid in the mountains and decided that all Sequoia trees look the same so I didn't quite grasp the significance behind the tall leafy things, but the view from some random rock on the edge of a cliff in Kings Canyon was a humbling one. It was one of those views you just get lost in and sometimes that's necessary. 

For the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. 

xx