Overseas, untangling myself from the grips of severe burnout. It's an imperfect art.
Joy, guilt and grief exist in parallel, amongst others.
In the silent presence of strangers, I soak up the cosy ambience of third spaces.
I feel ice cold lattes run down my throat. Fingers fly on my keyboard.
Slowing down; it's not an emergency.
Seeing someone's life (that I know of) rapidly deteriorate before me did something at the core. A reminder that we choose our priorities.
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Unexpected moments can bring home the best memories.
Meeting a Japanese barista who used to live and study in Sydney for a year.
Jumping into a conversation with other travellers I don't know.
Eating at an exclusively gluten-free ramen restaurant.
Lying before Tokyo Skytree, gazing up at the night sky.
Becoming one with immersive, water-based art. Feeling. Observing. Being.
A deer photobombing me.
Wreaking havoc on sleep due to indulging in matcha.
Winning a rigged crane game on the second try.
Reading on a bullet train.
Going "weeeeeeee" on a rollercoaster and down slides with no shame.
Saying "screw it, I don't know when I'll get another chance to do this", and diving headfirst into experiences.
Every experience becomes a story, and every story is rooted in an experience. Each photo carries the memory of aliveness. This is the joy, and pain, of being human.