I spent most of the last few years floating along, which is why I feel like, at the cusp of the new year, I have been trying to hold on to my memories.
Here is a photo from three and a half months ago—a nondescript body of water, though I’ve divulged the location—and I’m trying to remember what that day in September was like (cold and grey, clam chowder, the freshest oysters, Ragnar Kjartansson’s The Visitors, beer pretzels) and all I can come up with is a list of some parts of it.
I still can’t explain how the sea and the sound from the screens moved me, a hundred and ten days later, but I still remember what it feels like.
2015 will be dedicated to remembering and keeping things whole.
on the road
It's Sunday morning and we have no plans. How nice!
A late summer afternoon Boston South Station, about to head west on the Commuter Rail
Walking through Boston, thinking about life. It is weird how those two feel strangely connected.
Paying it forward
The view from the deck of the Charles W. Morgan. She's visiting Boston for a few days, and I had the lucky privilege of an early-bird tour!
Ordinary things: but they mean I am settling into a new home. (Also, after three months, I finally have something to put my clothes in.)
Old and new