letters from publius.
essays on soul, spirit, and time.
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“Well I guess I’ll just continue with my travels” she said. __ She and I met in a hostel on Kuta Lombok in 2015 when there were 2 paved roads and not much else. I was a dirtbag surfer. Traveling out of an old backpack… weathered, gritty, with dirt and shit all over it. She…
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“The keys are right beneath your fingers baby, you just gotta play em”-Ray Charles — Hands waving everywhere. Pushing. Shoving. Some sort of Cantanese, Bahasa variant, Russian, Indian, all being shouted all at once. A 3,000 year old sculpture made 2,000 years before god was even created; a painting which gazes into the depths of…
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I left Saint-Christophe-des-Bardes for 24 hours. I went to Biarritz. This was the purpose of this trip. I left beaming, my soul moving with the rhythm of the music. I thanked the vineyards for their peace, the birds for their songs, the insects for minding their own business. And the fresh air. The little stray…
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Here I sit, listening to the chirping of the birds. A calico cat meandering around, brushing gently on my ankle. The vineyards off in the distance. Starlink beaming HD quality internet to my lap top. The mornings are cool and quiet. The evenings peaceful. Inbetween is work. Something about the distance contextualizes the whole thing. …
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Golden hair. 5’9. Curves flowing like the waves in the ocean. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world” 7 years older than I was at the time. 25 to 32. I was staying at a hostel in Wellington. I’ll never forget when she first walked out. Put together. Black turtle neck up to her chin.…
letters from publius. 