December brought me low.
The short days punctuated by blinding patterns of hard december light and glowing auras from 11 ocular migraines in one month set against a brutal arctic cold snap left me sort of spinning.
(now 14 in 37 days and did you know if you get a migraine while sleeping you also go blind in your dream? true story).
The post-migraine skein of grey washing everything acts as a biological brake. Slow your roll. Don’t make too many overly big plans.
Even typing this there are visual oddities. small swirls. small flashes. the sunlight—I can’t turn away from—isn’t making it better either. All the same end of year reflections have raised questions and you’re my therapist.
For six months or so I’ve been debating buying a Leica and spending more time documenting my life directly (less artfully?) and trying to get into a pandemic era street vibe but in that time no real deep seated push has come. It’s mostly negative push from my own voice sayi…
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