We’re back. Airport travels, Turnpike travails, Manhattan streets and Philadelphia meets, we went from there to back again and now back: again. We were home, now welcome us home.
We’ve done this, documented this, written about this before. (Here’s another set of images and thoughts, from last year. Memories, all of them, and potent ones at that. Drink deep.) It’s always a rush, returning to where it all started, and then returning to where it’s all happening now. Except it’s happening there too. It’s everywhere, we’re everywhere, and all at once, it seems, is the problem. Or is it the solution? We propose: to write about this, these conflicted (and harmonized) thoughts and feelings, the baseball toss between two coasts, the see-saw between polar-opposites that attract and repel, push and pull, heave and ho, and so on ad infinitum.
As we gather our thoughts, ruminate upon them on gray-drizzle Oregon walks and cloud-burst coastal drives, sipped over strong ales and considered among home-cooked meals, we’ll get back to you, our loyal friend, our reader, about where we stand, what we think, and how we feel, regarding the emotions and impressions and exaltations and confusions and — life, really, is what we mean to say, we’ll let you know about life, this life, the only one we experience and the only one we truly know. That’s why you’re still with us, right? That’s why you’re reading, yes? To gain insight on a life that perhaps will shed some light on yours. That’s what’s some call art, many call communication, but around here we tend to refer to it as love.
Fort Saint Davids