November 14, 2014

New Zealand, Winter : In between

Some places are not destinations in themselves ; they are just in-between places. You stop there, you look around in a distracted way, but you're not really there. The setting runs through you without taking a grip. It doesn't mean that you don't like them, but you know you're not here for long, and your eye is already set on somewhere else.

Some places, you're just going through because you need to move on and reach another town before it gets dark. Or you though you could go that far but you missed the bus, or the car broke down, or the boat was cancelled, and you're stuck. So you take it on those places, resenting them, because in them you're stuck, and because they feel a little bit like the home you left, and you don't want to be reminded of home. I want to goooooo, my mind whines like a tired child. It's arbitrary, really – I firmly believe that anywhere is interesting. But some places, you just skip. You can't go everywere, they say. I hope they are wrong.

A friend told me that traveling is like flirting with life. You look at her and think : I would stay and love you, but I have to go. Lately, this is how it feels. An endless succession of places, barely discovered, already in the rearview mirror.

Some places seems to be only a quick interlude en route to another place. They are short lived, disorienting, sometimes barely visible, but they leave a foggy, dreamy feel behind them – or rather, as you leave them behind.

Some places, you're just in between. This is one of them.

These images were taken in Golden Bay.

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