So my adventure in Italy will soon come to an end, and yet I know it has just begun. I say my adventure- because it has been for me. It hasn't been running around having a crazy time, or chasing black haired lovers. I didn't think it would be- others perhaps did. It was so I could breathe without losing myself. Somewhere in London between the tired buildings, the dirt and the cloistered air I had left myself. I just got lost in a place that no longer felt like home. I spent a long time searching under rubble for the sound of a beat that wasn't mine.
I took the train to Florence and was in wonder how in half an hour I could pass through mountains, yet did not leave the tracks. I walked for six hours or so, always coming to where I wanted to be. Yes I had a map but I allowed myself to feel the way and found the places of grace and beauty I was so afraid I had lost. I had thought I couldn't find them alone. My heart had been broken and I hadn't looked at the cracks. I had been under the illusion I had been leading with an open heart when really the knot in my chest had stayed black.
Its taken a month of picking through the rubble and breathing in all that is for me to open it again. My camera chases light and now so am I. I want to wake early, take out my picture maker to the sun and gift myself the dawn. I want to capture the beginning of a new day. I want to see breath on the film and finger prints on my soul. I want to watch the world turn through the eyes of my spine. I want to watch it spin and stop haunting the cracks.
Closing down means out of service.
There is no greater dis-service than that.