On this flight, I gift to you a poem.
I crash and burn with a picturesque moment of your smile.
With another glance and grin, I’m resuscitated back to life.
I wish to look into your eyes, but I hesitate.
For in exchange, you see into me.
You see past the visage.
Tall and thick, you reach the wall around my keep.
Such a climb I’ve made it for you, but you know where I’ve put the slits.
With ease, hand by hand, you conquer the hard stone.
Your power has crumbled it to rubble, powder and dust.
You know how to reach me.
With a touch, a song, a vocation of eloquence, I’m ignited.
You know the lens from which I see.
You understand my sounds that form into speech.
We are mirrored.
Our reflections are of each other; a symmetry of mind and thought.
You’re the melody, and I, the harmony.
Present me with your smile, and together, we can make beautiful music.
Nothing But A Dream
You always seem to escape my memory.
I cannot piece you together.
Crumbs of bread that fall from my mouth,
you sit on the floor and are swept away.
How fragile are you?
Delicate, yet wild,
you escape my yearnings grasps.
As clear as crystal,
as cloudy as milk.
You make me sweat, you make me smile.
You flicker your life on what is true,
masquerading a message.
But, you are nothing but a dream.
My hunger does not see this.
My curiosity is not yielded.
Each night I close my eyes,
taken into your world.
I dance in your house,
eat your food,
drink your wine.
I am insatiable to your offerings,
a glutton who does not stop.
There is more to you than what I can see.
You are the paintbrush of a thousand strokes,
the canvas of a thousand colours,
the picture with a thousand stories.
You are nothing but a dream.
A half-dozen of my favourite pictures I’ve taken so far in Australia. Cairns, Trinity Beach, and the Daintree Rainforest. Also, I do something with my arms that I can’t explain.
The old Roman town of Doclea, located to the north of Podgorica, Montenegro. There is not much left to see of this settlement, over the course of 2000 years it has withered down to rubble, with a few buildings within still standing in perseverance. But yet, I am drawn to the thinking of what daily life must have been in this place. The forum lined with markets and tradesman, a basilica serving official and public functions, but more importantly the stories of the people that spent their lives within these walls, and the travellers that came and went to share a piece of its offerings. Were they people of noble character? Was humility and kindness shared with a compassion for life, or was it filled with those of than than desirable qualities and wholesomeness. I can say with hope that good people spent their one life living in peace with each other, and life was a grand time for many.
Gladitore! When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The Pula Amphitheatre is one of the very last few surviving amphitheatres built by the Romans. Constructed over 2000 years ago, it could host several thousand people, kept beasts down below for fighting, and had a full barracks and quarters for the gladiators. Despite the violence the arena created, it tells a story of the people living here, of entertainment, and architectural achievement.
Two nights in beautiful Ljubljana. An unknown country to many of us, but Slovenia has a rich history going back through the Ottoman Empire and Roman Empire. Ljubljana’s city streets have maintained the image of their past but have balanced it perfectly with a modern touch. Sculptures line the downtown core with a representation of the Slovenian consciousness movement inspired by Martin Luther in the sixteenth century.
“I’ll go to Italy one day and eat pasta.” - young Lucas.
Trento, a northern capital tucked quaintly in between the Alps, provided an experience that showed myself that Italy is more than just flour and egg shaped into noodles.
“The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.
Lovers don’t meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.” - Rumi .
I came across this small piece of insight on a brick wall my first day in Amsterdam. I don’t think I’ve found simpler words for finding love. To search endlessly, to sacrifice, to be courageous in the pursuit is the fairy tale we are all told. But, the answer may not lie in the complexity, the emotional struggle, of a great, traversing discovery. We are foolish. It is never far away. It is the piece of intuition that reveals its true location, and when it awakens into life, you will see how close it really is. For yourself, for another. As it’s found, it’s never lost. No great distance, no vast separation can push it away. Don’t be blind to what is within. The answer is there. .
The unspoken bits of travelling.. the travelling from city to city, country to country. There is time for yourself to sit with your thoughts, ponder the options on your road, maybe even get a chance to sleep if you can get comfortable. There’s also the chaos of late buses, cancelled buses/trains, lengthy transportation rides and figuring out how to get where you need to be when the ride has reached its end. It isn’t always so peaceful, there is sometimes difficulties to overcome. But, it’s all part of the experience, and usually, more times than not, things will work themselves out. You must to remember to stay patient and positive as best as you can, even if shit is hitting the fan!