Notes from Before

Words and photos from the before times.

“Hello beautiful people,” he greeted us in passing, riding a bike decked out with starry banners and puffy lace. “Life sucks, but i’m getting used to it.” Upon his head was a crown of the same golden stars strung up with bare silver wire. “I’ve tried to change it but I can’t.” He looked just like Albert Einstein, huffing past in his 70s neon green and orange jacket. I registered him just a bit too late and he kept pedaling forward and onward past me. I wish I had a photo to preserve this man but all I have left are these words that I scramble to write down now before they slip away. I met Albert today at the gasworks park in Seattle and he left a lasting impression in a mere 2 seconds that I wrote his words down.

There’s something so cathartic about writing with pen and paper. I think it’s the forward momentum - your hand and your eyes moving in unison. Especially while sitting in the passengers seat of a moving car. There’s so much tumbling forward, keeping your thoughts moving. No distractions, nothing to stop you.

Holy Cascades. All of the mountains were out as we flew a tour over Hood, St.Helens, Adams, Rainier. The skies were clear all day. Even from 36k feet above the ground, mountain and shadows were clear and within reach. Then just as twilight set in, the sky became blurry. Just a haze of purples and blues washing over the horizon like you’re looking out of a dirty window. This is what I think the world will feel like when I’m wrinkled with experience. You can just bout make out what’s directly in front of you as the background blurs past, continuing on while you get increasingly slower unable to catch up. There’s something out there. I can’t see it yet but these blurs have purpose. Maybe by nightfall I’ll discover the Aurora Borealis dancing along the distant view.

When the sun set passed we were high above the icy lakes of Eastern Canada. Nothing but frozen time here. You could sense the depth below as the sun moved over the water. Red shadows outlining the pools softening the shapes into shades of blue with a hint of red. Then the light recedes and everything left is blurry again.

I don’t remember writing those words but I know they’re mine. It’s like being blackout drunk. Fully awake and capable of making decisions, just not capable of making memories. Which is also oddly enough, something I’ve never experienced.

From above, it’s impossible to tell how tall these giants really are, but their blue shadows bend to the right hinting to massive bodies looming over the untouched white blanket at its feet. It looks so soft. Like someone carved a mount of powder with the wind in it. Shallow valleys you can see thick formations folding over like honey falling down a loaf of bread. Clouds are swiftly making their way over the peaks now, painting streaks of imperfect shades. And just as quickly as It arrived, it vanishes under the weatherman.