There came a time on my last night in Austin, where someone asked what I wanted to do. I didn't need anything dramatic, or cumulative, and don't much care for what the masses would do anymore. As long as three or four key people were there, I didn't matter how we passed the time.
Over my week I visited key areas, or those that once were: that intersection of Fifth Street and Lamar, always parking on one side and crossing over to the other; the tapping tapping tapping of my feet running along the gravel of Town Lake in the morning light as low clouds held on tightly to the tops of the highest skyscrapers. I did those things and more and realized that they just aren't the same these days; its a curious sense, like revisiting a dream.
Saying goodbye was hard this time around, especially when arriving in Dallas and walking up the stairs into a familiar room, but I have gotten used to goodbyes and hellos. There have been many over the past few months, and more over the past few years. If they teach you anything, it is that all has a beginning and an end and the comfort lies in knowing, even when not stated explicitly, that a new beginning comes without regard for our plans or our apprehensions or our fears.
The Little Prince is the best hundred pages I can remember reading. It is time well spent in those precious moments after a hug and a wave, feeling as though you have come from something and that you are going nowhere soon.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "Now here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."
What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so as to be sure to remember.
"It is the time you lavished on your rose which makes your rose so important."
"It is the time that I lavished on my rose..." said the little prince, so as to be sure to remember.
Over my week I visited key areas, or those that once were: that intersection of Fifth Street and Lamar, always parking on one side and crossing over to the other; the tapping tapping tapping of my feet running along the gravel of Town Lake in the morning light as low clouds held on tightly to the tops of the highest skyscrapers. I did those things and more and realized that they just aren't the same these days; its a curious sense, like revisiting a dream.
Saying goodbye was hard this time around, especially when arriving in Dallas and walking up the stairs into a familiar room, but I have gotten used to goodbyes and hellos. There have been many over the past few months, and more over the past few years. If they teach you anything, it is that all has a beginning and an end and the comfort lies in knowing, even when not stated explicitly, that a new beginning comes without regard for our plans or our apprehensions or our fears.
The Little Prince is the best hundred pages I can remember reading. It is time well spent in those precious moments after a hug and a wave, feeling as though you have come from something and that you are going nowhere soon.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "Now here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."
What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so as to be sure to remember.
"It is the time you lavished on your rose which makes your rose so important."
"It is the time that I lavished on my rose..." said the little prince, so as to be sure to remember.
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