Traveler's Bond

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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism

You don't get what it's like to travel alone till you do it.
I am understanding this bond. This essential faith in karma, this vunerable place where you say:

Bring it on, world.

There are people traveling alone everywhere. They will become your instant best friends. You will never forget them.

I spent last night dancing in Monmarte ( a few blocks from the Moulin Rouge) in a historical building with grass covering the floor. It was a garden party/rave and the music kept switching from techno to hip hop, old school to new school.

Stumbling home with friends at 5:30 AM is something I know how to do. I'm an expert in sweating until I forget everything but the milisecond of the beat.

Paris trendy kids are cute. I might have ended up on some nightlife website. Everyone loves my glittery hat.

I spent the daytime at a crazy tattoo convention in a park, meeting people from Japan to 6th st & ave B. Taking pictures of a girl's jewlery for her new line: Drop Dead Bitch. Smiling at people.

The previous day I was in giverny, Monet's hometown- so much green I thought my eyes would burst. You understand how he made his masterpieces. I'd die to live in a house like his. He had the original rainbow collective.

I'm going to cocorosie's art gallery, then dinner with kaija and her family. Home has come to visit me.

I've been spending most of my time with a future lawyer from london, a pot dealer/ photographer from canada, and a few art students from Austria.

I have no complaints, except one:

I wish the worries of home didn't know how to swim or fly. I wish thay stayed landlocked, imprisioned till I chose to face them properly.

I miss you, home. And yet- I'm realizing maybe you are something I can carry with me.