give me your hand
the dog in the garden row is covered in mud
and dragging your mother’s clothes
cinder and smoke
the snake in the basement
found the juniper shade
the farmhouse is burning down
-iron and wine, cinder and smoke
so my ride continues with iron and wine. i keep playing it over and over again. it’s an amazing company while you’re on the road but interestingly, it’s also a great friend when you’re home.
one thing i love about traveling by train is that i am fully aware of space and time. when i’m on a plane i feel like i pause my life. there is only the flight duration independent of the consciousness of the ‘local time’, which doesn’t really make much of a sense when the definition of the ‘location’ continuously changes.
on the train, i can actually follow the connection between space and time, and how one makes sense based on the other. it’s like passing by other lives and at the same time passing through my own life. when the connection between time and space breaks i get this sadness of having left my home behind. well, i guess it was time for feeling a little bit down considering the ‘local time’, because every journey includes a cycle of enthusiasm, anxiety, happiness and melancholy, doesn’t it?
thinking of home, i remembered Gaston Bachelard’s “Poetics of Space”, which i strongly recommend to have in a reading list. here is a paragraph from that book i really like:
“Far from the immensities of sea and land, merely through memory, we can recapture, by means of meditation, the resonances of this contemplation of grandeur. But is this really memory? Isn’t imagination alone able to enlarge indefinitely the images of immensity? In point of fact, daydreaming, from the very first second, is an entirely constituted state. We do not see it start, and yet it always starts the same way, that is, it flees the object nearby and right away it is far off, elsewhere, in the space of elsewhere.”
so i’m prepared to encounter my memories along my daydreams. but first, i think i need some more sleep.