nous avons passé le week-end à la plage

January 26, 2009 Candace Morris 7 Comments

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty

In moments of sheer ease...ease of schedule, ease of company, ease of silence, ease of self...in these moments I find a new self. This new self is a self I can swallow; the self I wish I could find more. I attribute this 100% to Jessica. For whatever reason, we have been given the gift of immense compatibility with a propensity towards verbal communication, but equally adept at nonverbal cues. I feel exponentially more myself...

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty

We had a lovely time. We did, by physical definition, a whole lot of nothing. By emotional standards, a magnitude: Strolls in freezing sand, seats on tempestuous rocks, skies portending and romantic, meals grandiose in taste and preparation, conversation rich in banter, insight, family, and academic acumen, silence in droves, wine in plenty, and one too many scrabble shame walks of humility.

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty
From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty

From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


From Oceanic Dirty Thirty


The worst part of the weekend was the return...a return to my ever-present anxiety and ever-meaningless job. The return to the saint was my only solace, an embrace and support I have never forgiven myself for needing so much.

It's monday night now.
I have just ordered my groceries online.
I have enjoyed yakisoba and oolong tea for supper.
I have sipped on this wee mason jar of gin for two hours.
I have nuzzled into joel's side as he watches samurai movies.

So the return was not so bad.
And it never is...
Never is as bad as we think it is.


Though sometimes, for some in far off lands (that are no so far)...
its worse than can be imagined.
I love you, there in your suffering.
I love me, here in my home.

~i think on many, and in many find thanks,
crm

post script - see full album:
Oceanic Dirty Thirty

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