de(com)pression

Travel. What a fucking drag.

We arrived in Holland, greeted by blue skies, and a three hour wait for a 30 minute flight over the North Sea. Thirty minutes of flying put us under a grey sky and drizzle. Nothing says welcome back to England like 3 degrees, and a light rain!

Fortunately the next week was big, dark blue, Norfolk skies. And despite us both having colds that we haven’t managed to shake until arriving in London, we got out everyday and walked for hours on the coast, through derelict churches, and in the woods. How many people get to go to england on holiday and come back with a suntan?

It would appear that i’d got pretty rundown getting psyched up to come over here. It has taken over a week to get some feeling of calm. Coming to London generally doesn’t do my mood much good, but this time, despite sporting a raging-hate-on as the train pulled into Liverpool St., i’ve woken up feeling remarkably calm and clear headed.

[Walking around near Golbourne Rd. yesterday taking photographs, a girl came out of a shop to tell me that i couldn’t take pictures. Having lowered the camera to make sure that i heard her correctly, i gave a laugh, and took her picture. Was very proud of myself for just laughing and walking off… but WTF?!]

Lacking any commitments, other than a drink with old friends, i’m planning to wander around museums, holding hands, and regularly reminding myself that this is a holiday. This is a holiday. This is a holiday.

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5 thoughts on “de(com)pression

  1. Remarkable. In an English speaking country where they told me I could not take a photograph I would have taken 8 years of pent up rage and let them have it all in one go. I’m impressed you laughed it off. If nothing else, the break will give you some thinking time and perspective AND, more than likely, some killer photos. Bastard! 🙂

    • england drains me of the will to live / fight. there is something so horribly pathetic seeing how scared and fucked up the place has become… just another little outpost of the american empire?

      (the next person that enquires about my day, with all the sincerity of a corpse, is going to get more than the usual whitering grimace!)

  2. I’m wondering if the British “suntan” is similar to the Japanese “Hiyake” (sorry, don’t have kanji here in Russia…) in that it basically means sunburn…? Though imagining post-goth iconoclasts such as yourselves prancing around the forest primeval with Majorca tans is slightly humorous, especially as I am amidst the near Albino-Baltic-Viking-Russo clans. Ahh, the north country, where the summer sun sets at 11pm (if at all) and the lack of understanding the local lingo lets me shoot without needing the white-hot rage so rampant in Japan (which is reminiscent of Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, a movie, so maybe a lost reference, but one you might want to see (great soundtrack!). Keep shooting and walking through the woods!

    • pretty much – mad dogs an englishman, and all that. just yesterday i came up with the term ‘angry english suntans’ when talking about the ‘freaks off their leashes’ in amsterdam.

      i’ve just started scanning some stuff from London, where it really does never get proper dark at this time of year. always some inky blueness to sky, even at 2am. London was hell; masumi loved it. Hamburg was heaven; masumi was not amused by it. my plan is to hang out here in limbo a little longer… needs must when the devil drives, etc.

Wise words...

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