@ChristyLeung — I want to go to NY with you.
I miss that time where we felt so carefree, just a little bit cold at times. I feel at lost for words in light of that nostalgia. It seems that I collide into the best & funkiest of places with you.
& the ratchet / chill photos with you —
I feel this, if I were to translate it into tunes:
I remember you. I was alone that time, and frantic. That was my Paris in a day moment, where I rushed to the crooks and corners of the city. It was the day I found out a little bit more about my destiny.
Here, I stopped to rest. Do you recognize this room? It’s the one next to the room with the Mona Lisa. I personally found this room one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever stepped into. It’s calming. It invites a sort of magnificent sigh, asks you to pause for a bit to marvel at the long stretch of paintings. Also, I’ve never been down that hallway. I’ve only stood right here, resting.
I’d never thought I’d enter that realm with you. To take this picture, in part. To get lost in the wonders of ancient geniuses, in another. To understand the ever silencing rest this room breaks into your mind.
We stood here for rest too. After a circular day of exploring. It was too real in the highlight of the moment. I remember.
I realize my memories are too a hallway full of ancient dreams and moments. Only sitting here, writing, I wished I got up to the other end of the hallway to realize more wonders.
I was only too tired, too faded by the wonders of the city, to marvel at whatever could be more present and wonderful at the end of a short walk.
I’ll find you again. We’ll find you.
Yet another New York vlog…
Went down to NYC last weekend for a short getaway from stress of finals – ended up with inspiration for a new aesthetic and memories full of too many sweet desserts.
I might post another part to these photos because I have a couple hundred, but we’ll see. This is my short but sweet trip to France. Despite how unexpectedly quickly it had to end, I had a really cool time and within the short time frame, and I realized that sharing the experience with someone is worth much more than going through it alone.
I’ve had this post ready for a while now, but it felt unsettling have the first post of 2016 be something happened the year before, and I just couldn’t really quite bring myself to accept that. Honestly, I’m not really into posting a new years post, so I’ll start it off with these photos. They’re pretty cool, anyhow.
So a few months ago, I accidentally deleted my entire iPhoto Library containing all of my pictures from previous travels. I managed to post photos online, which I was able to rediscover and save. Here are a few of my favourites from last year’s adventures:
It occurred to me, sitting at an airport, how much meaning and sentiment it holds for people. Personally, I dislike them. I hate going through check in, security, customs, and waiting for my flight. But a lot of people look forward to this; they see it as an opportunity to go somewhere new, explore the unknown, and ultimately get lost in some romanticized adventure. My mother is one of these people. Although she’s never really been anywhere, except for a few places, she told me she wanted to be at the airport a few hours ago. Me, on the other hand, I like traveling, especially before it happens or right as it’s about to happen. But usually not during or soon after. I can plan for hours what I’m going to be doing every hour of a day when I’m in Paris or New York, but as soon as I’m actually there, I become anxious: I need to carry out this plan that I already set.
My mom and my friends enjoy the trip, relatively. I say relatively just because I’m usually not in the happiest mood traveling because I’m trying to get everything done. But traveling should be an idealized adventure, and I should have a better attitude about airports. I mean I’m blessed enough to be traveling back and forth from home to school to just random cities and places. But don’t get me started on planes… They’re awful, even if I fall asleep for the entire time.
These days, airports just mean another waiting game and another “I hope this flight isn’t delayed” ordeal. Anxiety, anxiety, and more anxiety is basically what it is. That being said, I haven’t stayed up this late since… December(?) on my trip to the hospital. It’s 3:41AM and I’m not sure if I’ll publish this piece, but I just thought it was interesting – the dynamic of airports, how they represent something different for everyone. Could be something painful, beautiful, unknown. Whereas to me, they’re just waiting rooms.
| EDIT: Wrote this the night I left for home on spring break. |