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a journey around and about and back again.

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"Travelling isn’t always about running away from things, sometimes it’s about running into what you truly want."

~ (via dmthvg)

(Source: youbackpacking)


(via workman)
likeafieldmouse:

James L. - Lenticular Clouds Over Mt. Rainier (2004)

likeafieldmouse:

James L. - Lenticular Clouds Over Mt. Rainier (2004)


(via evenio)

"We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known."

~ Carson McCullers
(via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: misswallflower)


(via thatkindofwoman)
sickpage:

Arnd DewaldShanghai, 2011

sickpage:

Arnd Dewald
Shanghai, 2011


(via softwaring)
maramarta:

White Northern Lights in Finland

maramarta:

White Northern Lights in Finland


(via petitagite)

Itoshima
I just found out I will be staying here for two months next year!!! The sea, mountains and swaying rice fields. Very happy x

"There was nothing to talk about anymore. The only thing to do was go."

~ Jack Kerouac, On The Road  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: caffeinebreak)


(via thatkindofwoman)
Without an anchor
I love flying into Brisbane.  I press my head against the plane window as we snake our way up the coast and then turn into Moreton bay.  Boats dot the blue of the bay and I can see the shadow of our plane pass overhead.  And then we drop lower and I can just make out the mangroves. 
I can’t remember where George Street is.  I’m sitting in a coffee shop trying desperately to walk out this city in my mind.  But I’ve forgotten the streets.  In that moment I know that this city is not mine anymore.  I want to cry but mainly I want someone to tell me that it will be alright.  That I don’t need a city to call my own.  I know that soon (maybe all too soon) I’ll forget how sad I was that day. If I tell myself the truth I only want a home so that I have somewhere to run away from and somewhere to come back to.  So today I’ll let this melancholia weigh me down with memory and loss.

I held the creamy flower against my cheek.
It’s excessive, 
I thought angrily,
the smell of Brisbane.
I had to hold onto the gate.
There was surf around my ears,
the smell of frangipani,
I was caught in an undertow.
 
Janette Turner Hospital from ‘The Ocean of Brisbane’ in Collected Works

Without an anchor

I love flying into Brisbane.  I press my head against the plane window as we snake our way up the coast and then turn into Moreton bay.  Boats dot the blue of the bay and I can see the shadow of our plane pass overhead.  And then we drop lower and I can just make out the mangroves. 

I can’t remember where George Street is.  I’m sitting in a coffee shop trying desperately to walk out this city in my mind.  But I’ve forgotten the streets.  In that moment I know that this city is not mine anymore.  I want to cry but mainly I want someone to tell me that it will be alright.  That I don’t need a city to call my own. 
I know that soon (maybe all too soon) I’ll forget how sad I was that day. If I tell myself the truth I only want a home so that I have somewhere to run away from and somewhere to come back to.  So today I’ll let this melancholia weigh me down with memory and loss.

I held the creamy flower against my cheek.

It’s excessive,

I thought angrily,

the smell of Brisbane.

I had to hold onto the gate.

There was surf around my ears,

the smell of frangipani,

I was caught in an undertow.

 

Janette Turner Hospital
from ‘The Ocean of Brisbane’ in Collected Works

"When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I."

~ E.M. Forster, The Life to Come and Other Stories (via 13neighbors)

(via 0aklungs)