It's always difficult to start a project like this, writing on a blank page. To make it easier, I'll begin with old notes from my trip to Zambia last August. I fell in love with the place, its calm and beauty, and the way one could just climb a tree and watch the shadows change, smiling.
"Here the moon is a boat. Some trees flower, others are completely shrivelled, and odd, brown, new growths sprout from bushes. Lovely, endless land, red sand I can bathe my toes in.
I am now sitting in the shade, not to tempt a sunburn, and looking at yellow grass, tall and twisted. On a walk while the others rest, fighting my skirt in the breeze. Some strange bird hoots in the vegetation, and cars sound in the distance. So peaceful. Curse Western civilization.... My hatred grows, yet I'm caught not hating very much. Too much to look at.... In the evening, the earth exudes a smell resembling that of baked potato, which is quite exciting. Dust, dust, snares, everywhere. I've had time to do a lot of thinking, about myself, mostly. Conflicting thoughts, conceptions, definitions. Bouncing off in all directions, multitude of likings and such. Very vague. But so far, I am calm. I can't go wrong, and change never changes. It is always, inevitably and irrevocably change."
This 3-week trip was important to me for many reasons, which I'll probably refer back to many times. The openness and warmth of people I met, the irrelevance of time and its passing, and the many things one simply absorbs and learns by staying in such a place for long enough. I get all sentimental just thinking about it. I was happy just to be alive, and to be able to experience all this during my lifetime.
"Here the moon is a boat. Some trees flower, others are completely shrivelled, and odd, brown, new growths sprout from bushes. Lovely, endless land, red sand I can bathe my toes in.
I am now sitting in the shade, not to tempt a sunburn, and looking at yellow grass, tall and twisted. On a walk while the others rest, fighting my skirt in the breeze. Some strange bird hoots in the vegetation, and cars sound in the distance. So peaceful. Curse Western civilization.... My hatred grows, yet I'm caught not hating very much. Too much to look at.... In the evening, the earth exudes a smell resembling that of baked potato, which is quite exciting. Dust, dust, snares, everywhere. I've had time to do a lot of thinking, about myself, mostly. Conflicting thoughts, conceptions, definitions. Bouncing off in all directions, multitude of likings and such. Very vague. But so far, I am calm. I can't go wrong, and change never changes. It is always, inevitably and irrevocably change."
This 3-week trip was important to me for many reasons, which I'll probably refer back to many times. The openness and warmth of people I met, the irrelevance of time and its passing, and the many things one simply absorbs and learns by staying in such a place for long enough. I get all sentimental just thinking about it. I was happy just to be alive, and to be able to experience all this during my lifetime.
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thanks