Slow Hum

Earlier today I sat for a while and listened to "Music for Airports." The music on this record never ceases to move me. After listening to most of Side 2, I broke from my sitting position to stand up and have a stretch. I quickly discovered that my feet had fallen asleep, and I began to experience intense tingling sensations in both of my feet. As I walked and placed one foot in front of the other, it felt as though each touch to the floor was a dip into a fire pit. It was not painful but highly strange and somewhat comfortable. Often my feet, or arms, or hands, or legs fall asleep, but it is rare that I attempt to use that part of the body (in this case, my feet) when it happens. Slowly my nerves began to flow properly again, my mind became aware of the existence of my feet, and I regained a sense of physical normalcy.

I'm going to Europe in nine days, as the gap of time leading up to the trip has very quickly receded. I was last there two years ago, farming and traveling in Tuscany. On this trip I'll be moving around the continent a lot more. I am eager to travel again, and I have laid out a (rough) itinerary of where I'd like to go. It's weird to think of myself as currently in the theoretical, detached stage of the trip, that is, the planning period before going, and that, in nearly a week I will be in the actual physical space I have been "looking forward to." There is no gradual transition or slow walk between the two - one simply is in Place A and nine hours later is in Place B. The small towns outside of the cities, cheap food, people, and the unfamiliarity and newness of this experience - these things await me and I am happy to find them.