XXIX.

I sit and ponder the futility of my camera trying to reincarnate the glory of this landscape onto a blank screen or a piece of paper. I needed these two weeks. The way the sun reflects off the clouds when you're below them, the colors you had only dreamed of showing up on a western border as if they lived there, looking down at the earth from thousands of feet above, fighting with myself as i walk along foreign streets trying not to look lost. I've been getting some answers on this trip. Not the answers I wanted, but the right ones. The ones that say I am beautiful and broken, the ones that say this life is a dance, a story, a song, a book. Stepping back and letting tomorrow worry about itself. Not caring when life will climax or show signs of purpose, but just living. Enjoying the fact that I'm alive. I hear violinists and I smile. I look at people and I smile. I make poor analogies about my life being like a cruise ship, and I smile. I'm likening this life to the seasons. There are pros and cons to every season. Some seasons feel like they'll never end, others you wish it were true. Some seasons you feel invincible, others you feel like you'll never smile again. Some seasons are boring, bland, and subtle, others stick out in the back of your mind like a sore thumb. The thing about seasons is that they come to pass. They die when it's time for them to die, and there's always a new season to take it's place. Sometimes it's better. Sometimes it's warmer. Sometime it's joyous. Sometimes it's worse. Sometimes its colder. Sometimes its painful. But it's life and there's always another season.