Sunny streets again

For some reason, the sun waited until then to appear. We’d had a few summer stretches of heat, but to be honest, July and August stunk. First it was garbage and closed public pools, then cool nights and an early on-set autumn against a smog grey sky.

But out of nowhere mid-November brought perfect weekend weather. On a sleepy Sunday out came heavy sweaters and light jackets; we went to see the last of the leaves to fall. Faded colours and a long coffee breakfast, we strolled lazily through the park. Photos were taken and movies rented, then as the stars rose we fell into sweatpants, grateful to turn off fans and open screen doors.

And even if it ended with morning (which it didn’t), we went to sleep knowing our season had come.

Finally.

*shot with a German Leica pocket cam. panorama, panoramic.

How to escape to a place where life can be seen from a safe distance:

All summer long, the hills called our name. And so, before the weeks had their chance to blend into autumn, the four of us packed up a car and made a swift, clean morning exit from the city.

The roads rolled north and the window view turned green as we climbed into a place with few other cars, no electricity, no cell phone reception. Behind us were our cluttered inboxes, unchecked voicemails, and the notes explaining our where-abouts that we forgot to leave.

What lay ahead was four days of water bound mystery, several campfires, and more silence and darkness than we had had in months. Below is a short documentation of that adventure.

First, we ate a feast for us, the new kings of the forest.

Then we brushed our teeth,

to get rid of that after-smoke smell.

Dirty feet didn't matter where we were.

And every tree presented a new possibility.

There seemed to be magic in the vegetation.

This, we discovered, is where the wild things are.

Alex examined nature up close.

Real close.

I joined Team Zissou.

We had a sunset rubdown.

And I trained for an eventual escape into the wild.

Summer's up. Float on.