East End (Slight Return)

Today I took a walk down to the water on the East End and looked over Mackworth and Peaks Island. The breeze was fresh, the grass was newly cut and the Atlantic so vast that it eventually swallowed even the sky; that beautiful blue and cloudless sky. I was momentarily stunned by my surroundings. I thought about all the place I have been in the world, but that this is the place am returning to for the second time. It is never for a single reason, but rather an amalgamation of memories, people and an unshakable desire to flee big crowds and oppressive sky scrapers; to trade steel, glass and concrete for trees, grass and a fresh ocean breeze.

It is a culture in-and-of-itself; maybe it is not Paris, Prague, Beijing or Milan, but it has its own beauty non-the-less. I might not stop here for more than a year, returning to the crowds and subways of New York or Washington D.C., and maybe, if I do leave again, it will be the last time. However it works out though, these moments will never be lost on me. They give me energy, creative and physical, for the rest of the day.