Beneath the Buddha

There’s something in the statues eyes, in the way they aren’t looking down at me but rather down at himself, as though thinking. It tells me this is for the now, for the me, sitting here today, not some historical remanent of when religion was a booming, all powerful business.

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The me I met in Rome

This could very well be the story of how I learned all about myself in Rome (which I did), or how I became more brave and more confident (which I did not). But, well, this is not that story. This is the story of how I literally met a man with my name, and quite a few other things of mine as well.

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An evening in Paris

The first thing I did in Paris was take a photo of a baguette. Or, more specifically, an ageing man holding a baguette, hooking it under his arm as if that’s what the nook on the other side of your elbow was always meant for.

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Life is Strange, art that nests

I was searching through my brain for a song to learn on the ukulele, the most powerful instrument of them all. In doing so, I remembered the soundtrack to Dontnod’s Life is Strange, and accidentally punched myself in the heart so hard it near enough exploded. Upon listening to those calm, painful, vibrating strings, my eyes grew sore and wet, and I realised with horror I was about to cry. At a piece of music from a videogame I hadn’t touched in a year. What… What’s happening to me?!?

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