andalucia

andalucia. a name as pretty as the stripes and arches of ancient stones born from al-andalus, when the moors reigned this region. in the south of this iberian peninsula that i absolutely adore.

cordoba was first, the mezquita and its stripes of red and white, too many for eyes to focus amongst such ornate design. so interesting, to see a cathedral sitting squat inside a mosque that way. but so beautiful.

sevilla, my favorite, open and wide. Plaza de Espana, where parts of Planet Nabu (star wars!) was filmed. world fair pavillions and gardens so green, but the children would only stare at the ducks swimming in the fountain water, when the photos i took were tinted so blue.

the cathedral was beautiful, the bell tower views spread so nice, but really, columbus' skeleton? i "saw" them in la republica dominicana too. a shame his brittle little discoverin' bones have been jumbled about across oceans so much.

my two favorite photos

granada, the alhambra. like walking on holy ground. generalife. hen-air-alh-lee-fay. swishing of red and the claps of fierce looking women and fabio men, spanish guitar to make us melt. the flamenco show was most enjoyable. i smoked sheesha for the first time, light and dizzy and apple flavored sweetness. pakistani tea with milk&honey, leaves slippin in my sips like the smoke was slipping into the silk. those cushions weren't as comfortable as they looked. the nightlife was best; too many tasty tapas and taps at the tables and we were all too cozy and drunk to find home again.

it was a lovely few days, however rushed we were.

toledo

these views were worth the weekend.

wrapped.

hehe

not the largest, not the oldest; but the most important cathedral in spain.

toledo: forty minute train ride from madrid.

we almost missed the train, we even had to run: too obsessed with the fresh zumo de naranja, siempre sin azucar: no lo necesita. i loved the cypress trees, the agave plants (that weren't quite as rare as we thought) the sandy clustered rooftops, this gym of a city on a hill we climbed and clawed and clustered our way through. el greco and his ghostly faces, our sideways lunch; i can get the check right quick? gotta stop for souvs!

love is not a victory march

my first weekend trip was to madrid, in january.

mainly madrid was full of my melting memories and magnificent museums, nicecream, the best sangria i've still yet to taste, and for the first time knowing why anyone (l) loves cold, grey weather, and seeing that beauty in the swirling lyrics in my head. we made the most of those shin splints.

windmills from windows, beirut in my ears.

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

optical illusions

exhausted conclusions.

i cannot count our endless cafes con leches.

we loved el azul.

museo nacional del prado, la reina sofia, y museo thyssen-bornemisza were breathtaking and overwhelming in the best way possible. even better than anything paris has to offer.

the winged victory of samothrace

how hollow do our hearts become when afflicted with a loss? i have hurt so hard being across an ocean, separated from my family, when this is my first more intimate experience with death.

trying to find solace in the fact that my uncle left amidst his passions, understanding that God's timing is perfect, though i cannot comprehend it.

rest in peace, Uncle Tom. i'll look through my lens for you now.

i have never experienced such a vast realm of emotions as this past week has brought, either. (sadness, emptiness, worry, annoyance, anger, more hurt.) and i am homesick for the first time. still so in love with my city, but no longer trying my hardest to extend my stay. this won't be the last time this continent is at my fingertips, my eyes in the windows of its trains and my breath held up high in its planes. such a mix of feeling too young, but being hit with the fact that life is so so short.

norby families:)

grandma pauline wishes she could have been there, too.

last time he visited orlando, he said so many of the funniest things

that will stick out to us the most:)

do the photographs i've taken make me look blind?

it's knowing i might not figure myself out with my heart strung across the globe.

but liking & loving all the same:

the way spain sounds so separate from the hardscrabble mango town poured into the sweat of my navy bandana. (the side of hispanola that didn't shake.)

the way the windmills look from moving windows;

the ones where sunlight tickles my skin through panes as cold as ice & the sounds in my head remind me of my j's and l's and t's. especially when hallelujah resonated through all the spirals in mis orejas you described the time when things almost became complicated. grey skies were never so beautiful.

el jardin de las delicias & guernica & the death of murat & las meninas & the third of may & descent from the cross.

the green skies of van gogh and too many gauguins for me to handle at once.

and did you know they still say fish is expensive? because i didn't and was yelled at for filming these things.

almost missing the train to toledo, where el greco was birthed and birthed all those repetitive ghostly faces that float on choking frills. all the buildings the color of summer sand, where even the rust on the shingles caught my eye through the lens.

fast forward.

sick like the two times in north georgia, plus my nose dripping into purple & hands on my back that make me fall too hard again. when will i ever say no to falling?

cordoba & sevilla & granada.

arches of red and white and so many intricacies in these magnificent places, when people had the patience to create for hundreds of years on end. mixing religions & styles i used to not like.

planet nabu, wide avenidas, silhouettes in carved windows and children more excited to see feathers in the water.

taps at the bar and really, too many tapas: oh yes, ain't that fresh? and shower water bleeding onto the floor.

the way i loved bruxelles,

even when the train stopped because of an accident involving a person; and how that sent chills into my bones more than cold curdling blood when we thought we'd freeze. disappearing compositions: silver and white.

the way cocoa powder wouldn't let go of the corners of my lips

grime across the table tops and dungeon corners:

la porte noir & la fleur en papier dore. ours.

really, it was all innocent.

when waking up not alone feels too alone but tastes from home fix these things.

i'm not even sure who i miss anymore.

vale

flying away from a sunset and the gold & baby green of electrostatic grids into a sunrise in the land of fast speaks & late nights and the beginning this experience that's as black as flying above the atlantic ocean when the time zones intertwine and change, and has it even hit me yet?

no.

valencia is beautiful. and i've only seen un pequito parte of its avenues and cobbled streets and parks and tastes and people. but its oozing with color, even in this biting cold.

plaza de la virgen

i want a verb

when we're on different sides of the globe,

i thought we'd keep our veins tangled like a pair of mic cables,

and if there ain't enough slack to reach,

then we'll solder them together

and across oceans they'd stretch.

with all my heart. just sayin.