time warp!

I made it y'all!

Wow. That was freakin' great. : ) If I have anything to say about how it feels to be back, I'd talk about how you can return to the way you've lived for the 26 years preceeding a world-travel-adventure-year incredibly fast. It's like it was all a dream. A lovely, indescribable, soul-changing dream.

This comment led to a heated (no pun intended) wine-in-the-hot-tub conversation with my family this last week: so if it was a dream, are the experiences still completely valid? And if that's the case, can't any dream, when they feel so real, in essence be the same as reality? Which led me to fall further in love with my family and back to being happy to be home : )


Scrambled Egg Brain with a Side of Pajamas

'I dreamed I was singing songs to the moon, around a campfire with friends. I crept behind a log so they couldn't laugh at my insane confessions of travel by shipwreck. I painted my toenails grey, shared rum with an old love, and generally got back to old habits on the other side of the world.'

'I dreamed about The Robot Shop and Vonnegut's notebooks, a place mat navigation system, and early signs of intolerance. Grown men sipping chocolate milk juice boxes, human flight, smoke bombs. 'We have a history of pirates in the family'.

'We sat on the floor of the bike shop for hours, decorating our hands and listening to smokestacks sing Turkish love songs. Ate breakfast while looking over rivers, valleys, duck ponds; all the while playing with the little stones around our feet. There were whirlpool dances with darkened statues and the kind of spirits you just can't find in these parts of the world; men who were only flashes of red, skin, shoelaces, as we spun through tables and old lamps in the abnormally light middle of the night. Sarees streamed from open doors of trains, goats gnawed on strings that flowed from the holes in the knees of my jeans. Harmonica rolled across an empty street, through an oversized glass of red wine and into my beating body.'

'I sat on a pile of rocks, watching crabs eat their dinner at sunset, became a falafel snob, lost a whole backpack of stuff, found what was important, was the oldest person at an Argentinian rock show and lost all my buttons dancing. I threw letters in bottles into the ocean and recieved a pile of coconuts on my doorstep in return.'

'I began to speak differently; in language, but also in physical things like origami, tangerines. I began to consider myself a character in an unwritten book, no longer a real human. I began to believe in people. I became an insturment, like an axe, or a trombone, or maybe even just the honk of a trombone. I found fishbones poking through my tanktop one morning and became my own little slice of the coastline. Sand in my hair and flowers running the length of my arms...

'And suddenly, here I am, at the kitchen table in the house I grew up in, listening to piano and the tv in the background...a scrambled little midwestern girl with a head full of dreams. And I'm confused, and not really sure if anything's changed.'

I've got some photos though : )

(These are just off my phone, more to come as always : ) Ya gotta give me a minute to sort all my stuff out!!! Lots of love <3 Linz