Sometimes I forget that it was any different than it is right now. Georgia seems like a fleeting moment. I spent so much time daydreaming about what it was like to be back in America, that now that I’m here, I look back in retrospect at what it all was: the good times, the bad times (you know I’ve had my share…).

There are some pieces that made me feel more like, well, me. The slowness, as daunting as it was at times, gave me peace of mind. An existence that allowed me to take care of myself, and not in the way where I was looking forward and back, but in a comfortable space of now. It was a tenderness, a growth, an understanding of how I wanted to continue my life.

There it was worth it. Those moments sitting by the side of the road when there wasn’t anything left to say. It was the passing of time. The breath of fresh air. The lack of noise and lights. The creek, the grasshoppers, the gentle wind through the overgrown grasses.

And now all I can hear is the sound of passing cars. The rush of airplane engines. The flashing lights of my phone and computer. Everyone is on the move. There’s a frantic rush and when I stop to listen to it, the buzzing comes from inside me. My obligations, my bills, my promises.Time is money and well, you better be damn sure that you’re productive in those 24 hours of the day.

And so this is filled with pretty things. Simple things. Stand stills and portraits of captured moments. Looking forward to a vacation as a means of relaxing isn’t a lifestyle that I want to perpetuate. There’s value in those wordless conversations, the shared space of just sitting with someone. Exchanged glances and mutual understanding. Surrounding yourself with people you don’t have to explain yourself to. Listening to the ocean swallow you whole.