The windows of Amsterdam have a completely different connotation than most places. Naturally, there are those that most people associate the Dam with, the windows of the Red Light District. From all hours of the morning until all hours of the night, tiny alleyways are lit up, lined with pink and purple lights. The purple clue you in, informing the street dwellers that the ladies inside are not actually not women. Within each, you will find women of all shapes, sizes, and colors, decked out in the skimpiest of lingerie. They perch on stools chatting on their on their phones or they press themselves against the glass, leaning themselves in prime- viewing stature. Their gaze remains focused, looming over the mixture of tourists strolling through for the spectacle and distinguishing their victims. They lock eyes with you, extending their fingers and urging you to let them open their windows for you. They are on the hunt, preying upon the horny men and women of the streets. But there is...
“Maybe we’re just missing things we’ve lost, or hoping for what we want to come.” This time a year ago life seemed so humdrum. I spent my time fiddling with wine corks, serving martinis to many a middle aged man in a business suit. Photos were scarce, left behind at uni and adventures abroad. My mind lingered on foreign flings and hostel romances full of accents and fleeting time. I looked ahead to the future, working the dreadful January shifts that lagged on. Work meant money, money for the next great escape. I was living for a future that seemed so much more appealing than what was right in front of me. January 23rd, 2011, I told Dana about a project I noticed popping up on Facebook pages, photo albums labeled "365." The concept sounded great, daily life depicted through photos for an entire year. 365 to flip through, recount, pinpoint with places, outfits, people, moments, and meals. It was the perfect project, only my daily life seemed to lack the splendor, the subje...
Here I am, just a few days shy of my two-month mark living in Anguilla. Sitting in my favorite spot on Rendezvous Bay, I stare out at turquoise water, sailboats and yachts, passerby tourists who attempt to freeze this paradise in still frame before returning to retrospective winters, villas of the rich and the plastic, and the glorious mountains of St. Maarten. Moments like this make me question reality. Rendezvous Bay, Anguilla Actually, most of the moments I spend on this 17-mile-long, 3-mile-wide island nestled between the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean, cause me to question my reality. Living in Anguilla is like living in an alternate universe. In short, this place is something special. I often boast about my balls of steel, but that's not to say they didn't shrivel up when presented with the opportunity to move to an island I had never heard of. Being stable for so long, studying, slinging drinks, and schmoozing with the family and friends who know me inside a...
Comments
Post a Comment