Hello everyone! Long time no post. School has started up and it's been very busy, but I've still been filling in all the cracks with as much art as I can. Despite not publishing any blog posts, I've been making adjustments to my blog. I now have a photography page where I am displaying my recent [...]
I would give anything for my brother Erwan in France to be a mere eight hours away on the same continent or for Australia and Hawai'i to be bound by an ocean-crossing bridge. But we are lucky to have highways.
The cloud still thinks I'm in Japan.
The tide depends on time. It depends on the moon and it follows its own schedule. But it does not rush for anyone, it does not yield for anyone, it doesn't slow its reach or pull to accommodate the ocean. It just does.
I think of this night often, and even though it's just a week later, I think about how sharing light with people is such a wondrous and lovely thing. It can be done with sparklers, it can be done with home cooking, and it can be done with a smile. In any language, you can share light.
Imagine a little girl in a flower crown and pure white dress so overwhelmed with emotion from letting go of her butterfly friend and being stung by a bee at the same time, sitting on the kitchen counter as her dad nurses her foot with an ice cube.
"春一番ですねえ," お母さん said in recognition. She explained, and I thought it was just lovely that Japanese people have a word for this characteristic blitz that comes before the bloom. We kind of have something similar in English, but reversed, "the calm before the storm." Here its the storm before the calm.