We arrived under a low grey sky, the kind that makes green darker and temples quieter. Bamboo bent over the path in the Arashiyama grove, and somewhere a bell answered the rain with a bell of its own. I bought a stamp in a little shop that smelled of tatami and ink.
Visit Kyoto · 03-11Every doorway led somewhere you could not find again. We followed the smell of saffron and tagine smoke through the souk until the sky appeared in squares above our heads. A man poured tea from a great height and never spilled a drop, which felt like a kind of philosophy.
Visit Marrakech · 05-02The trams played hide and seek with the hills. At the edge of everything, at Cabo da Roca, the ocean was a blue that had no bottom and the wind had no manners. We ate pastéis that were still warm, and the sorrow of the fado followed us politely all the way home.
Visit Lisbon · 07-19The sun forgot to set and so did we. We bathed in water that smelled of eggs and stone, watched steam climb into a sky the colour of old pewter, and a stranger told us the word for an elf is simply a hill that decided to dream. There is no word for the colour of that light. There should be.
Visit Reykjavik · 09-04