Stepping outside the door to throw out the trash, I find this at my feet
My first day in the studio - moments of excitement, wonder, and surprisingly, waves of nostalgia which trigger memories of Chiang Mai, Urbana, Chicago, most of which elicit a bittersweet sadness. Perhaps this swift moving sadness is a result of untying the anchor to Illinois and the people who remain there. Memories of Rachel resemble a rich tapestry, a piece in a museum which I return to, each time finding details which I had missed from the previous visit.
I am still without a key because the local hardware store clerk cut it sloppy, so for now I live as if in Portland, leaving the door unlocked and wrapping positive thoughts upon the house. On the walk to the hardware store I cemented a bucolic route which will lead me to Woodfield Plaza (Market of Choice/Sunrise Asian Grocery), parts of which lead me through quiet allies and byways.
Lawrence Alley on the way to Woodfield Plaza
Odd sensations to be living in solitude once again. Spending no time alone in a house for 30 days caused me to alter certain habits and routines which I am looking forward to returning to - the afternoon nap, getting up before 7:00am, making meals with slow deliberation, sitting in late afternoon dusklight pondering the days activities. Having stepped out onto the ledge of otherness, it will be a relief to return to the quiet safety of my being.
