Today I am finally able to breathe. I have a place to stay for the rest of the week and call home. These days, any place I feel welcome, have a bed to sleep in, and can wander in and out of on my own is a home to me. A place where I can brew a cup of coffee, walk around in random amounts of clothes and place my shampoo bottle in the shower is even closer to home.
I get simple thrills out of new experiences and being in new places. At first sight, new is always shiny and well, new, to me. Sometimes illustrious first notions of excitement quickly diminish, but sometimes the glimmer remains. Early last week I was in Mississippi working with a couple of photographers. I had never been to Mississippi before, and was optimistic about seeing the place. Within three days I found myself in cotton fields (a first for me), pressed against a railroad track while a train wizzed by, covered in chocolate, painted like flags, covered in Mississippi mud and floating in a bathtub of milk. I was entertained by the sheer number of things I was covered in for my shoots, but now I find myself a wee bit speckled. Apparently, between the paint and the mud, my body is having an allergic reaction. So, if anyone wants to work with a speckled model, I know just the gal...
I was on the phone with my sister when I drove past the sign introducing me to Florida. Midnight on Sunday marked my first time to ever cross into the Florida border. Simple thrills.
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