We rented a Ford Mustang and hit the road out of town. When we accelerated onto the freeway, the look on Pond’s face was priceless as she exclaimed “oooh!”
I queued some appropriate songs. The landscape sped past. Moving onto some side roads, we pulled the top down and enjoyed feeling like ... somebody else.
We had a quiet lunch in a popular country town and, returning home, felt like the world had taken on a slightly different quality – just for a day.
I hadn’t considered just how different it would feel, though, and I wonder how we might experiment like this in other ways to bring other little sparks of joy into our life.
We visited Ueno Station one cold, grey morning, entirely because of a memory of an old song, as you do – or, well, as I do.
My wife found it odd. I couldn't really explain how songs seep into your bones over time, but it related to how I needed to experience a more random nature of Tokyo beyond other people's top-N lists.
We could've seen anything at all here, and it would've helped a few more connections form somewhere in my brain. That's what I'm looking for – the joy of less-conscious discoveries. After all, it's up to you what the image means.
Earlier this year I found myself in #Huế, a city full of pre-20th-Century Vietnamese history – to be fair, I found myself there because I'd read up on that stuff, hoping to get a little more from my trip than the usual “American War” fare and see some remnants of the Nguyễn dynasty and such.
When the pandemic hit and we were stuck with just being able to walk in an N-km radius from home, I assumed it’d all be fine because I’d still be able to pursue my #FilmPhotography and find plenty of things to take photos of. Somehow, though, it didn’t work out like that.
