Two Weeks

This past Friday, the last of six flights landed--New York to Madrid, Madrid to Prague, Prague to Stansted, Luton to Alicante, Valencia to Madrid, Madrid to New York. The two weeks I faded from this electronic ether were my first in Europe.

Back home, we slept little before the last leg of the trip, the drive in tandem cars to a New Year on Lost Lake. Now back at my desk, behind keys and glass--jet-lagged, hung-over, heavy-bearded and sore (Co-codamol helps)--I'm spitting bits again, filling in an identity that dims.

Expect a stutter as I regain momentum and refine the moments collected traveling. 3500 frames edited down to 1125, scraps of paper and random leaves--all fragments of an experience still sinking in--now fight to find their way to the page.