Trains, Planes, and TS Eliot

There’s  a transformative feeling I get when travelling home.  A quiet emerges as the roles that I play in Chicago shed off of my back and I’m somewhere in between who I am, who I was, and who I will be. I can step back from life’s playground and just watch as  raw mechanical forces move me from one place to another.

And a warmth in returning home and remembering that people remember me. The cityscape can get more than a little lonely and it’s nice to be known.

To return home and know the place for the first time.

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Repeating Rthyms

My friends, Jay and Tim, came over last night to play music. These two have taught me to experience music beyond melody and beat, to savor the many small sounds that populate a sonic landscape. Come to think of it, they have also taught me to savor the many small pleasures in life.

My Dad, also a musician, talks about “the groove”, when you forget that you are playing and just listen. Music, he says, becomes greater than the sum of its parts.

I’m glad to play music with friends. As he did when he was my age.

Thanks guys.

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Feet

Howdy.

My name is Nick. Welcome to “One Picture, One Hundred Words”, the photographic journal of my experiences in Chicago. This will be a short piece. I will post one picture and one hundred words every Sunday for one year. Through this practice, I hope to choose words wisely, experience moments more fully, and to get to know all of you.

Today it felt warm enough to take off my shoes. My feet were enlivened by sensations that had been dulled all winter. Sinking my toes into grass and sand, I felt my whole body take a deep breath.

Spring.

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