Hello, dearest Superforest!
Allow me to apologize for my absence on this wonderful hypertext expanse; you see, the process of expatriation takes perspiration and dedication. I write to you from the heart of Prague, known affectionately as the Golden City, the City of a Hundred Spires, the Mother of All Cities. I am blessed to call her home. I’ll be here for a while, for as a lovely lass told me on arrival, this mother has talons.
But before we meet her, I’d like to take you through my journey to this wonderful place. I left my home in the Middle West months ago. I have roved through Dublin to Istanbul, made many friends and photos, and now return in this Central European jewel. But before we get to that, allow me to lavish you with lithographs from my first landlocked love: Chicago!
In early August my sister and I met up with our dear mother in Chicago. We spent a wonderful week together as a family. Momentously memorable moments they were. We feasted on potlucks and plays. Hear you can notice the famously broad shoulders of the City by the Lake. When you visit Chicago, say hello to downtown and then head to the neighborhoods. As with any place I inhabit, I found myself wandering. I suggest you do the same.
My wise friend Theo once told my that in this world, one can be a positive or negative force. He then cleaned my friend’s kitchen. I see the same spontaneous, wonderful positivity in the above: perhaps the bike rack would grow cold in the winter! Also, if you’re tactile-oriented like myself, you treasure the textures of those textiles. Keep knitting, knitters. The rest of us appreciate it.
While the above is not nearly so revelatory as the first two photos, I find it poetic in a simple way. I could wax rhapsodic on temporality literally cemented, which seems so relevant as autumn increases, but I would rather hold in my mind that spectacular walk through the upper west side. Can man and nature peacefully coexist? This is a false question: We were never not a part of nature. And this blog attests to that.
Next: Dublin — and a poem I wrote on that formative flight across the pond.