Sunday, July 15, 2007

Thirty-one and a half hours, there and back again

You turn on the faucet and the sea pours out, salty. I awoke Saturday morning not in Boston but in Jacksonville, Florida. I took a trip down here to see a painting by Giorgio de Chirico which I have deemed worthy of consideration for my thesis. I couldn't believe I was in Florida, looking out at palm trees and lush greenery from the breakfast table. The novelty of air travel will never wear off (probably even less so now that security measures make each trip a new adventure).

Florida, a land where you wander from weighty humid air to chillingly cold A/C. A peninsula where it will be perfectly beautiful in the morning and then, by 1pm, when you are sitting down to lunch, wet from your car-restaurant 10 second run, it seems like night. And of course by 6pm you'll be able to go to the beach. Not getting anywhere without a car, you are seat-belted to the palm tree-lined highway in search of your next adventure.

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