Journeys, Traces & Unlikely Spaces
"What's it like living at the bottom of the ocean?", he asked. "It's in hoping, every day, you'll rise to the surface", she replied.
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The following is a personal journal entry taken from August 2012 in relation to the above images
Some days are just hard.
Some days I just remember.
Some days its difficult to understand how things can materialise out of what once was.
Or what now is.
Or what now ultimately remains.
(if anything)
And I look back, as if it was another life or another universe and another face. As if those birds or that sky or her hands were perfect boundaries from a life that now is.
And now my warped relationship with gravity correlates the disturbance and chaos between here and then.
Between now and the time of my red suede shoes.
Between trying to understand the analogy of what happens today and tomorrow and next week because of yesterday.
Some days I'm learning.
Other days I don't think I'm even beginning to understand.
Some days I just lie and feel and watch the world turn and it feels too fast or too slow and I feel not enough or too much. Other times I wonder if I'm feeling too much or thinking too much or not enough or not at all.
But I can still touch it.
I cant go back, but I can touch it.
We can all touch it.
I guess theres faith in the ability to touch who you once were and know there are still fragments of you that remain.
Because there'll always be a part of you now in who you were before.
The hard(est) part is knowing how to find, and ultimately recapture your true self before adversity.
I'm learning.
I guess the process is just a little bit longer and a little bit (lot) more obscured than backwards and forwards and forwards and backwards. In the end; the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.