It didn’t rain when I was in London in September until the very last minute — it literally started as Annemari and I waited for the bus to Liverpool Street Station for the train to the airport. Meanwhile, two hours in Barcelona and we got a serious fucking storm falling on us.
Judging by the photos, you wouldn’t be able to tell how much it affected my head — I still got loads of them. The next day was much better for me. This one, however, has the sea going for it.
I didn’t grow up by the sea; I don’t have that kind of connection that so many
pretentious assholes people claim to have to the ocean. I’ve never felt I couldn’t live far from the ocean because, hell, I’ve been doing exactly that for twenty-six years. Honestly, it’s just a lot of water, and humidity, and I can’t even swim.
And yet. As Annemari and I walked to the ocean, my mood went from ‘mildly stable’ to ‘giddy like a five-year-old;’ my energy grew and I started smiling and by the time we were overlooking the sea from a little ways away, I was ready to dance.