TWM and I travel together (when there is no pandemic) but we remember different things. As far as I'm concerned, my memories seem amplified by photos: I remember where I was when I took them, I remember my state of mind, the temperature, the smells, while I systematically forget the airport details. It turns out that taking pictures gives me a lot of pleasure, but I don't know why. * inspired by "Self-portrait" by Edouard Levé
What I should do
so we don’t think about it
Sometimes the days go by and are all different, and sometimes the opposite is true. It is the same with years. The month of August has been for a few years now the time when I start packing, tidying up, sorting out (to prevent unnecessary accumulation), organizing (the trip). This year, I am preparing for spring and then having the time of my life in an antipodean summer. I realize that I haven’t had a real summer since 2016, I find myself thinking very often now about the hot season, about suntan and swimming. Living in New Zealand right now feels like you are lucky, despite the new outbreak, when not living in Auckland. Daily life has changed very little. I enjoy living in a small town, where there is not much lacking (except elastic for masks). For a few weeks now I have been going to charity shops to find fabric and elastic for masks, I am exploring the fifth generation of masks at the moment, always looking for a comfortable mask, not too hot nor too tight, I make them for family and neighbours. I am also learning the art of oiling a sewing machine on youtube. This year, most of all, I have learned to appreciate each passing day. Still, I can’t wait to get my feet in the water.