Inspiration is lost to me as of late and so begins the search for it once again. I've never been to France, or Europe in fact, but my passport book lies quietly in wait, and as soon as I manage to scrape a few bills together, I fully plan to disappear inside the beauty. I've never traveled alone, and I wouldn't mind so much as long as I know the language. How awful that does feel when you have no idea what is being said around you. i.e. much worse than being at a nail salon..
Anyway, it's become apparent to me that I use different outlets for processing varying emotions. Photography is good aura and light; blogging is hope and optimism; and the rest of the writing, well, it's painting the walls black. But I figure as long as whatever is on the inside comes out to the surface productively, well, it's not completely a lost cause for emotion.
Hoping this new material goes somewhere finally. It's got to go somewhere, sometime. Maybe even to France.
"The ocean rolls us away, and I lose your hand through the waves."
Photos via Pinterest.