I just read my blog from the entire month of August. I think August was my favorite month of this year. Good job, August. It was my favorite because it was so emotional: every emotion, rampant in me. And it was beautiful, and warm, and the end of my summer and thus my childhood. Is that too melodramatic?
In two days I'm going to post a link to my new blog here. I don't know if it can live up to this one, I don't know if I have it in me. But I will try. Also, I would like to request a favor.
The only reason I've kept up this blog every day this year, I mean the only reason, is that people read it and (I presume) like it. I've always wanted to do this, and I'm still not so certain it isn't pretentious (what is more dangerous than being pretentious?). If you are so inclined, please let me know if you've been reading or liking My Year in Photos. Like in an email or something, or a comment, or a message, or a letter, or a smoke signal, or a telepathic brainwave (the last one might not get to me). Or anything else. And you don't really have to say anything. But I'd love love love to know what you thought of it, or what it made you think while reading it. Especially if you have never told me. Also especially if I don't even know I'm writing to you! Alright that's enough talking about myself. Oh wait, that's all I've been doing for a year.
Do you know how people remember flashes or certain incidents from the past? I remember the bear cave from the Ecotarium when my mom used to take us when we were so young. I also remember the thermos she put coffee in to bring on those trips. But I don't remember anything else about them. Today I was thinking how greatly I wish that I would know, or at least have an inclination, that what I'm about to see is something I'll remember for years into the future. How much more I would pay attention!
take me back to the two days in summer
where the metal bridge in the distance
held the promise of adventure.
the rain on the highway, drowning out my senses -
no match for the swell of music, the smell of fish in the air -
was fleeting, just like that weekend.
our swords lay peaceful those nights;
taut mesh and loving resolve
kept out the mosquitoes.