I woke up to quiet snores and when I rolled onto my side, I saw him. His loose brown curls splayed in all directions and his bare chest slowly rose and fell with each slow breath. His long legs poked out from under the worn, thin blanket. He had the face of a child; his long eyelashes fluttered as he began to stir out of his drunken stupor. We smiled and broke the early morning silence with quiet conversation. He pulled the blanket, which he unintentionally took more of, and draped it over my bare midriff. He placed his arm around my waist and pulled me closer as we continued to share stories. And as we whispered to each other, he gently tickled my lower back. The longer we talked, the easier it became to forget his age. And that’s when it all happened.
Friday, August 26, 2011
After spending a morning at the mall, I decided to wind down with music and my sketchbook. I mean, what better way to de-stress then to let your creative flow run freely? Anyways, just a few photos because I love the lighting in my room when the sun just hits past my neighbour’s house and drapes my room with soft lighting.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
That initial shock of the cold water hitting your skin; the sound of small splashes after each kick; the feeling of gliding through the water; the muffled sounds of everything underwater; the strong scent of chlorine that clings to your hair and skin. I love it all. And today's swim was nothing short of a great workout. So here I am, winding down with a cup of homemade iced coffee, a nutritious banana and a novel.
Monday, August 22, 2011
I had borrowed a novel from a friend to read during my trip to the Caribbean. Rebecca Solnit's A Field Guide to Getting Lost was spiritual, philosophical and a great joy to read. There were sections which described the distance of blue as a colour of longing and desire. And when I was on the top deck sunbathing, my view for hours was completely blue (as depicted above) which triggered me to write about my view on the distance of blue:
I see the distance of blue; the blue that contains all our desires and dreams. It is a blue that fades as it stretches away from our sight. The blue is a canvas which spans and surrounds all of us; a constant reminder that we are away and stranded in a place of delusioned peace--man-made and temporary. However, permanence can be achieved but it takes more effort and strength than one can ever imagine. It is the type of strength that is mustered and saved for when it is needed most.
I went snorkeling in St. Thomas, horseback riding in Antigua and bargained with all the small shops in Tortola. I soaked up the sunny days of 30+ degrees Celsius and felt the warm breeze as 2000 of us sped through the Atlantic Ocean.
How much this world offers.
It was three hours of an indescribable scenic trip. Sitting on top of the house was a nerve wracking and thrilling moment. As a little girl I've dreamt over and over again of the opportunity of being able to touch and share the presence with a horse. Holding the saddle, the reigns, being in control of the horse--it was all beautiful. The quiet sound of the hooves hitting the dirt; its gentle canter; the steady breaths of the horse--it left me breathless. The leaves brushed the top of my helmet as I was led through a serene forest. Along the beach, we left subtle prints in the soft, white sand. The waves washed in and out, painting the white a bright aquamarine for just those three seconds. The sweat on my forehead went unnoticed as joy and peace both flooded within me. The gentle breeze left my ponytail in a tangle as we trotted along the shores of the island. In that moment, I felt a new kind of freedom. One which involved lighter lessons in life; a type of freedom which allowed me to greet everyone with casual 'how do you do's' accompanied with genuine smiles.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Waking up to a thunderstorm this morning brought me back to Sunday afternoon.
We got caught in the rain as we were buckling on the covers for the boat. We ran along the dock and dirt path as the rain pelted our bare backs. It was humid and the skies were grey but our smiles triumphed the storm. We stayed outdoors and stood in the rain; it hit us hard and fast as our laughter continued to echo throughout the area. The cold rain woke us up, cooled our hot skin and fed us energy to run around some more. Standing on the porch, we breathed in the dirt and the earthy scent that rose from the ground. Everything was alive as we watched the rain slide easily down our arms, hair, bodies. And with heavy breaths we tiptoed back through the doors, dripping, but filled with serenity and content.
Being twenty, I have never purposely stood in the middle of a heavy rainfall. But I had never felt so alive and at peace with myself—I absolutely loved it.
Monday, August 8, 2011
I already miss waking up to silence and simplicity.
This past weekend was mind-opening. I discovered a little bit more about social interaction and how easy it is for me to slip into the background to become the observer. I do not show enthusiasm the same way most of my friends do; I absorb and keep everything to myself when I am in the moment. There is no screaming or laughing loudly—just a smile and acceptance.
Late Saturday night we decided to go for a swim in the river. It was pitch black and when we looked up, stars were sprawled across the dark canvas of a sky. It was beautiful. Breathing in deep, the aroma of trees, fresh lake water and burnt coal filled our lungs. We felt invincible. We stripped down and all jumped in; some from the dock and some from the back of the boat. It was glorious to hear the splashes—we broke the midnight silence. We all crawled out of the lake and tore off our bikinis and swim trunks. We were born again. The water was cold and the air was humid. It was one blessing as we all jumped into the water again and again, and again. The water glistened in the moonlight as our bare bodies glided through the water.
I truly lived this weekend.
(pictures to come)