04 February 2008


Big City, Chicago

As a child I loved the feeling of being lost. I would slip on the hand-me-down sneakers and set off into the woods surrounding our house on 4 sides. Hopping from rock to rock, I stopped to rest and explore only when no longer recognizing which direction to walk towards home.

Being lost simply felt more magical to me than knowing exactly where I was or being in a place I'd already been. It was how I discovered the purple forest, the vine swing, the back edge of the fenced-in horse pasture where I'd sit and pet noses for hours- or minutes that may have seemed like hours.

As I got bigger, it got harder and harder to get lost and feel that magic again. The minutes would pass more slowly, the creek grew smaller and smaller, and I always knew which direction was home and it was too closeby to feel the magic.
Today, I still love that feeling of being lost between big scary buildings or endless forest trees. It's why I'll land in a city without a guidebook, wishing only to wander and not to navigate. People never understood why I did this; but I simply enjoy the way it feels.
And I guess this is why, because of the magic.