kerouacandwhiskey

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Teofil Kwiatkowski, 1809-1891

Sirens, 1845

Czartoryski Museum, Kraków, Poland

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i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here

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I’m often lost in depths of reality that no one sees, noticing a whale like cloud or the black hole our eyes contain that suck in everything we see. I get lost in the way my heart beats and wondering if it will stop when I think about it too hard. How the wind bends the tall pines but only some fall to the ground. The sun sinking behind the mountains, but possibly never coming up again and what I see freeze over. Forever.

I’m lost in the reality no one else sees.

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Ana and Devendra

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This year, we’ve become soakers, floaters, fly fishers, and rock climbers; better communicators, anticipators, breakfast makers and tent stakers. We know when to set bear bags and how forests replenish after a fire. We’ve come to terms with leading a slower-paced life—we had no choice, really, considering that our ’84 Westfalia can’t go over 65 MPH. The road has taken us from Acadia’s rocky coast to tornado-watching nights in the Badlands to the Tetons’ snowy peaks.  But above all, we’ve grown as story tellers.

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High above the Southern Alps of New Zealand.

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Analogueblues

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all for naught

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Weronika IZDEBSKA

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Éclipse du 17 avril 1912

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