I'm heading home today, and while I can't wait to be home, I love traveling. It's not just the possibility of finding , and seeing friends I haven't seen in a while, or even just the appreciation that yes, the light IS different in different places, even though it's all coming from the same sun. What I like about traveling is that it seems to reboot my brain a bit. I have a lot of good ideas while traveling, including the idea to buy this fabric, which I can't wait to make into a skirt. (With brown piped pockets, of course.)
I also love hotels. (Well, I don't love the one I'm in right now, because even though the room is HUGE and there was really nice soap, I have the heat set to 85 degrees and the vent is still spitting out a tepid exhale. But hotels in general, I love.) There's something about the anonymous and low-key surroundings of a hotel room (combined, usually, with an unaccustomed late-day ingestion of caffeine) that flips a switch in my head, which means that about five times a night, JUST as I'm about to drop off to sleep, the thermostat in my brain turns on the fan and I HAVE to wake up and write something down. Luckily, the hotels provide little pads and pens for just this purpose! Also, I can write in the dark.
Of course, the things I write down tend to be highly metaphorical (one day I will have described everything existing in terms everything else existing, and will then be stuck in the bell tower of my own personal tower of Babel, looking down at the disarray below), like the title of this post. But it makes sense to me! And that's what matters, right? That, and having the idea to make this fabric into a skirt.