Friday, February 28, 2014
A rocky island sits at the edge of a bay, sometimes on land, sometimes surrounded by water. It's said that forces exerted by the sun and moon control the tides, and you definitely sense heavenly bodies at work on this sometimes-island. From a distance, the stone paths, walls, and surrounding blockade merge with the mossy rock that supports them. Once inside, the many hallways, paths, windows, towers, and rooms give the impression of so much more to explore on this small patch of land, while up on the roof, you take in expansive views of silt planes. Despite the noise and busyness of a major tourist attraction, your skin tingles at the idea of being stranded on Mont-Saint Michel, nothing but water in every direction, the sounds of monk chants reverberating off the walls and disappearing into the bay.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
As I walk down Sunset Boulevard toward Chateau Marmont, I notice a proliferation of the color pink. Raspberry lips on billboards, fuchsia bougainvillea spilling over cement walls. Pepto-Bismol and magenta façades. Bubble gum and carnation and cotton candy. Pink, pink, pink. Once I notice it, I can't not see it. Even the name has me thinking pink. It's a wild revelry, a carnival of color, that says more, more, more.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
It was early October, and I didn't expect to have to fight my way through a snowstorm to reach Vail. I also didn't expect to wake up to 26 degrees. But this view, framed by a rickety wooden bridge, almost made it worthwhile. As the cold air bit at my cheeks and nose, I leaned over the bridge and stared at the blazing aspens, the snow covering the riverbank and weighing down the evergreen trees, and the early morning sunlight on the water. Only later did I notice the spider web interlacing the beams—the little flaw that turns pretty things into beautiful things.