Sunset comes in like a whisper, hushing the robin’s monologue, stretching and bending the shadows until, at last, nothing speaks save the skies. They breathe deep navy words — slowly, confidently, and silence settles down. The lamp glows warmly, inside, and I pull my legs up over the pine bench and settle down into the posture of writing as the last remnants of Jasmine rice and watermelon dissipate into the air.
We’re moving, friends, in a whirlwind.
Josiah was laid off last fall, and now, suddenly, he’s got a new job in Nashville.
The cloud is moving. 
Seven years ago this month, I held a one-way ticket to Orlando, stepped on a plane with a (very!) infant Aveline, and touched down in this subtropical land where palm trees sway and hurricane winds rage.
What a delightful discovery! Aveline is an art gallery on the Champs-Élysées in Paris, specializing in objets d’art from the reigns of various Louis.*
Thanks to Follow Lauren — who’s currently happily roaming somewhere between Barcelona and London — for the sighting. (Photo via 1-cities.)
*If the lack of proper pluralization here bothers you, 1. you are likely an astute pendant, and 2. you may wish to peruse this.
You never know when kindness might really, really touch somebody’s heart.
It’s been a long week. But today when I swung past the mail boxes on the way home, there was a package waiting for me. A package of goodies from Oaxaca.
You guys, I’ve never even met Grethel, the sweet lady who sent these to me. We’ve exchanged messages about our mutual love for Oaxaca — she is from there, and visits each year — but we haven’t met in person.
When I opened up this package today and saw the beautiful tangible pieces of Oaxaca inside, my eyes filled with tears. (Oh, thank you, Grethel!) It’s funny how a place becomes a part of you, even when you haven’t been back in years heaped upon years.
And it’s funny how home isn’t a single place. It’s funny how home is really composed of many individual threads, all separate yet interwoven, all tied up together in one beautiful and sometimes tangled tapestry.
“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” -C.S. Lewis
Sometimes I stumble upon a photographer’s portfolio and immediately, I am lost inside the photos. I can be sitting right here in my living room, but it feels like I’ve been transported to another world. Such was the case when I found Zachary Su’s photographs of Taiwan. Plus, I’ve been drawn to images of windows lately anyway (case in point) so I was especially enraptured by his work with light and windows.