my final days in rome are spent packing, organizing, and re-packing my life and thoughts. the energy that was shared between all the people i traveled with is gone; they've ventured on to other lands. our studio is bare, an empty shell of what once was. it is my temporary roof, a pair of chairs my temporary bed.
i am sad to leave, not rome in particular, but the experience and freedom that was afforded to us while we were here. art is life, and life is beautiful when it is.
smoke and ash drift from an open window where someone sings in a language i'll never know.
suddenly, everything is much more foreign; my thoughts and desires for home, intimacy, and kinship exponentially increase. i want a place to be, and sleepless nights in a chair get me no closer. there is solace in solidarity, but i believe love is only real when it's shared.
2 comments:
beautiful thoughts.
true enough for life beyond extraordinary experiences such as you've just had. passion is born of intensity. intensity of born of focus and focus that of desire. it's a simple path, too easily lost. live it and love it.
always.
hey ben,
So glad you've been "out there" in the best way possible. Just makes you wonder what else is in store for you.
Just to let you know you write beautifully, so good in fact that Iggy's heart-strings were tugged and he is now sitting, looking out the window in obvious reflective thought.
Keep your little heart-strings safe and cozy and get your butt back home to us all.
xo-juls
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