Thursday, July 22, 2010

The limits of mere words

Uncharacteristically mute. I struggle every time I sit and try to find words to explain what I have seen, heard, smelled, touched, tasted here. All that sensory stimulation melds together into this narrative in my head, but I cannot sort it out on paper. This is attempt to begin to twist those pesky letter formations called words that, by the way, seem suddenly so woefully inadequate - not big enough nor vibrant enough to represent my mind's movie. I'm gonna write though, because when I am not here anymore, I don't want my struggle to find those pictures - having it all slip away because I was too reticent.

Self-indulgent moaning aside, I need to talk about how much I miss being on the road and the frequent "10-minute" bathroom breaks. A bathroom break on the road for us never meant just time to queue up and pee. Cigarettes had to be smoked, tea had to be poured and slowly consumed. These are the times when we all sat around tiny towns tucked in gorges and perched on mountain ridges. We sat in cafes with espresso machines spitting and tagines steaming. We sat for long, delicious minutes talking, wondering where we were going - where we were REALLY going, and trying to see everything around us without staring too much. We were tired from staying up too late every night talking, talking, talking, we slept cautiously - well some of us were unabashed in falling deeply asleep - trying to not drool since being photographed while sleeping was inevitable. I miss that.

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