balsamic

back at home now—the daily pasta, the gelato breaks, and wine are slowly digesting into my subconscious.  as my thoughts ground back into the reality of a grey, rainy, georgia with work to be done, i enoyed myself a couple days of those jet-lagged, couch-sitting, vacation blues to refocus my energy, and let my body catch up.  asleep at seven, asleep at eight—up at four, four thirty.   a year ago, when surfing the vacation blues in brooklyn, i would find myself depressed, agonizing every decision in a search for something better from my head.  in retrospect, these sessions of rejection from my brain re-entering my (at that time) daily life are some of the real memorable, watershed moments that led me to farming. nowadays, the vacation blues wear a much different hue.  inspired by italy, and terra madre, new reflections, questions, rejections—after sharing ideas and suggestions—whole new swirls of concepts, colors, and ideas are being brushed into little, oily circles on my brain palette. 

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