06 Dec

Once upon a time there was a girl. A smart girl, a naive girl, a girl lost in translation. This girl had a passion, but sadly it was dwindling, flickering ever so slightly at the faintest touch of a light breeze. Soon it would surely flicker out and take its place in line with the rest of her forgotten loves, in the distant, once-lived land of years gone past.

Hey, let’s cross the sea and get some culture.

Up came a journey. A trek across a world of old and older and an occasional new. She saw what she was supposed to see, ate what she was supposed to eat.

Red wine with every meal, and absinthe after dinner.

Still she was left unsatisfied, wanting a passion, a fervor for something lost. Then someone handed her a book. A book of light and suspense and playfulness, and so the book was temporarily affixed to her hand. As she finally became tired of reading she noticed a glow, a glimmer reflecting from some glass.

This light looks good on you, morning came early.

It was concrete. And stone. And metal and ceramic and wood. It was constructed; complex but simple, solid but lithe, sensible but whimsical. Shouldn’t there always be  whimsy? she thought. And so she sat and she pondered.

Sitting on a park bench that’s older than my country.

Whimsy is the answer, she decided, and light, and play. How is a passion a passion without them? And slowly, as she began to see these in pieces of her passion throughout the rest of her journey, her ardor grew. She was now on a new journey– to uncover the secrets of the necessity of frivolity. Now she could return home and find a whole new world waiting for her.

Hey, let’s cross the sea and get some culture.

‘Absinthe Party at the Fly Honey Warehouse’

-Minus the Bear