THIS WEEK: two hours of browsing around IKEA, half-an-hour of buying snacks at a specialty store, nearly an hour of enjoying pho in “the best pho place ever,” and god-knows-how-many hours of walking aimlessly in parts of the city that, up until then, had been unfamiliar to me.
We walked along the spacious walkways by the white bridge. We ate hotdogs while watching the river do what rivers do. We marveled at how luminous the city can be at night.
I am learning to like this place. I wish my friends were here, too.
Theories of Time and Space Natasha Trethewey You can get there from here, though there’s no going home. Everywhere you go will be somewhere you’ve never been. Try this: head south on Mississippi 49, one— by—one mile markers ticking off another minute of your life. Follow this to its natural conclusion—dead end at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where riggings of shrimp boats are loose stitches in a sky threatening rain. Cross over the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand dumped on a mangrove swamp—buried terrain of the past. Bring only what you must carry—tome of memory its random blank pages. On the dock where you board the boat for Ship Island, someone will take your picture: the photograph—who you were— will be waiting when you return
Poem from poets.org. Featured image taken using my phone.