Dreams of worlds away

It's hard sometimes, about two years ago I realised I needed a new challenge and not long after I made a decision to follow a different path. From roaming the world chasing cattle, walking trails, exploring beaches and serving coffees I went to academic texts and classrooms. The first few months I thought I'd get used to it again, I'd learn how to concentrate on dry matter and read these texts again. Sometimes I still do, until it dawns on me again that I will probably never get used to it. I'll always feel the pull of somewhere else. 

People warned me you know: "you'll never come back if you leave now, you'll never go back to school again, it's such a shame!" Turns out that was never the problem for me. I've always been insatiably curious and easily bored. Even travel did that to me after a while. Curiosity sent me back into these classrooms with a stronger drive than I'd ever felt before. "See? Don't tell me what I can or cannot do" I told them, "I'm the master of my own life, of my choices. Not fate or passive existence". However, what I never realised was that with age you become less malleable. Mainstream university courses are designed for younger, more malleable students. Students who haven't got it all figured out yet. Students who can still easily find a place for an anthropologist version of themselves to fit with all their other aspects. And all I feel all day is as if I'm trying to walk with four legs instead of two, as if I'm posing as someone else. But it works, I take from it what I can use, but it's hard sometimes. Harder than I would like, and then I ache back for those easier days walking trails and exploring beaches. Chasing cattle and serving coffees. And I find it hard to remember why I had to start a new challenge in the first place.

halfway there

I'm halfway there already. My toes in the sand, waves crashing, taking away the ground from underneath my feet. I feel myself sinking. The ocean is taking me in after the wings of a plane played with pressure until they lifted me and everyone. We were up high, hours gazing out the window seeing nothing but clouds. Dreams painted, splattered, on the velvet-like canvas. Boys and red drinks laying a haze of pink and red and ocean green blue I don't know which colour but it is splendid. We drink and laugh and spread our milk white legs wide on cobbled stone streets. Sitting on ledges old as history and there we go. We're away from everything that's real to us, yet here and now is all we know. The air is light, the breeze is kind and lifts strings of hair gently so I can gaze at this unfamiliar world unseen. The stories folding out around me, they're taking in corners in my mind. Forever theirs. I'll be after this forever changed. Never will I be able to go back to that time before the sun. Portugal, I'll see you soon, wait for me like I wait for you. With love. Isabella

a perfect flaw

It's all pretty humble really. I'm humble. Not in a way where I never talk big of myself, but in a way where really I'm not all that much. All I am is a not so little girl anymore trying to make sense of the world around me. Failing to take advantage of the capitalist system and my privileged position in the world. I scrub toilets, serve coffees, scrape pennies to pay my rent after which I buy overpriced coffee which really isn't coffee but milk and sugar and daydreams.

It doesn't always work out very well for me. Trying to make sense of the world I mean. At times I overthink and I make it all really hard for myself, flies become elephants and elephants become bigger elephants, but that's ok. That's me, I can't stop that. Overthinking is part of who I am, and though I'm working on learning how to keep that part restrained, it's also a perfect flaw. And I like myself for it. Besides, it's what has made me pick up a camera and look at the world.

Looking through a camera is like doing one step back. Retreating from the situation, looking through a rearview mirror maybe. It gives you time to reflect, to see things in a new perspective. From a new angle, sometimes very literally as I crouch down on the ground to get the best shot. It gives you new stuff to chew on, new stuff to ponder over in those quiet moments, on the speeding train back home after a long day perhaps, or on that slow, quiet Sunday morning in bed.

And eventually it brings stuff here. Not in the wanderings part, that's just aesthetics and memories and my peculiar framing OCD. But in the other sections. The stories, the observations, the participations, the explorations and information pages. Every one of those is a product of my overthinking put to work, crossed with adventure, cameras and messy words scribbled on torn pages.

Grey Skies

The sky is grey today and I’m free to do whatever I want, so I've decided to do this. A website.