Part of The Spree

My first time abroad. There is excitement, nerves, uncertainty -- to say the least. An immense amount of pressure to continually do, do, do. To have some sort of baptism from the continual existential crisis I forever live in. "This theatre will change me." "This city will re-ignite a fervor in me." "I will have an experience." This plethora of thoughts floods my mind, and I am overwhelmed. Jet lagged. Irritated. Continuing to live in questions, but forever holding onto the hope that I will have the golden experience. That one moment where I feel changed. And so, I wait...

and wait...

...and wait...

...

.  .  .   .   .      .     .

and wait.

...and w a i          t.                                           

Nada.

This sketch above, a view from a part of The Spree in which I sat for quite some time, is the moment in which I realized I need to let all of this longing go. It has been from this moment on that I have found solace with my wandering, compulsive, mind. The experiences -- good, bad, irritating, hilarious, sad -- they are right in front of me. Slowing down, being here with ease and grace, the moments pulsate through me. I say all of this with having learnt a huge lesson: the most precious and impactful of experiences have been the times in which everything was so simple. Thus far, it has not been at a museum, a monument, a theatrical piece, etc. -- it has been me sitting by The Spree (next to two wonderful woman feeding the birds their bananas). Much of this trip, for me, has felt like the opportunity to put a pause on the woes of life and really start to slow the fuck down. I really look forward to finding more of these moments...