Bloodshot eyes.
Old tub in need of work.
Plastic bottles of local liquor on board.
I guess boat drivers resemble each other all around the world.
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
Making a documentary in the jungle can be grueling work. Thank heavens for
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
She’s a street vendor, but while the rain drags on and on she breaks out some coca leaves and a big bag of peanuts. She shares them with me, free of charge.
I don’t think she’s much of a businesswoman.
Shh.
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
#blue
#color
#drive
#landscape
#moon
#moonlight
#night
#road trip
#scenic
#sunset
#travel
#bolivia
#desert
#mountain
Sensory overload.
There is something about sitting in a car with the windows rolled down - Your eyes closed just to catch a breather from the surrounding beauty for a brief moment.
Never mind the dust, concentrate on the breeze. Let it clear your head so as to allow you to appreciate what’s to come.
There is something about a road trip.
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
on aestheticism
A beautiful flower comes into being, owing allegiance to her ancestors’ unmatched and ever evolving qualities in the ultraviolet spectrum. My perception of her beauty is but merely a side-effect, an afterthought, or perhaps an adaptation of a venerable opinion I heard too long ago to recall in exact words. I don’t care, she’s gorgeous.
The specimen of flora doesn’t care, either. Her birthright is to exist, to bathe in beauty. In actuality, she feels pride in her perfection, strives for it. Not only is it her privilege, but her duty.
She’s laid her roots by the side of a road, into favorable soil. Silently she lives on, her pollen spread by admirers. Her influence is felt, as more and more of the beautiful flowers, alike in many ways yet all with their own little quirks, bloom up nearby.
Every once in awhile, someone stops in their tracks to marvel at her and her offspring’s radiance, until one day a passerby of a different sort comes across, the now meadow. He’s a horticulturist, he believes, by nature and henceforth by name. It is no coincidence he happens by, he was given a friendly tip by a local. The flowers mesmerize him to write an article celebrating the royal nature of their poise and the subtlety of the curves found in their petals onto a monthly paper dedicated to all things floral. The publication is a respected one. He’s a regular contributor.
The article runs double truck and is a huge success. Enthusiasts are struck by the new breed and write the paper en masse to inquire as to where they might get their hands on these exquisite pieces of nature. Sadly for them, there’s been no cultivation. However, the article also catches the eye of another gentleman, florist by trade and businessman by heart. I’ll call him the Florist. The Florist wastes no time getting into contact with the Horticulturist and together they a strike a deal concerning the cultivation and marketing of the flowers. The Florist has the facilities already set up from previous ventures and well, the Horticulturist has to make rent. In his equation in addition to journalistic ventures, there’s a day job involving gardening and landscaping, but the Horticulturist would much rather simply study and write on flora than to actually work the soil. As the case stands, clients are more than capable of such bad taste.
The beautiful flower persists on, oblivious to the attained honor and to the glory that awaits her. Soon, though, she and her offspring are picked up and rushed to laboratories, after which they end up in greenhouses and once they’re deemed strong enough, moved over to vast growing fields where they enjoy daily sanitizing showers of pesticides and a carefully balanced diet of Just The Right Nutrients™.
After another article, more an ad piece, the flower’s place in history is guaranteed. There seems to be no end to orders. The expanding growing facilities can barely keep up with the demand.
Soon, her life is filled with worry of perpetual growth. The flowers must be bigger and most of all, uniform! There can be no deviation from the norm. The clients expect consistency, after all. Field after field is filled with what are basically carbon copies of another and thus all those lovely little quirks her offspring enjoyed become extinct. There is only one mold to follow. But a beautiful mold it is. She’s finally become a household name,
like no other.
Or so she thought. It seems once she’s been tamed down into form, the hysteria around her ends. Now, don’t misunderstand me, the flowers are still selling well. It’s just that the world of commercialized flora needs another talking point, so she’s soon accompanied on the fields by other younger, more vigorous and versatile flowers. And another one. And another one. None of them at all so different from how she used to be.
We haven’t gotten to shoot shit for awhile, now, but I got word of good and bad news. Such is life - I guess there exists a need for balance. I’m sorry for your loss. You know I’ve had to take a few myself, so I’d like to think I can relate, when I close my eyes and drift back. On a strictly brighter note, though, I heard you’re moving up in the world! Different surroundings, huh? Congratulations on the nod, man.
I also heard you and your girl are doing good, or shit, even better! I’m beyond glad. Unnecessary drama is so.. Unnecessary. Like a throbbing pain in the back of your head, just gnawing away. Fuck that. Life’s just too short of a trip to be weighed down like that.
Me, I’m doing good. Accumulating more and more stories to spill over beers and well fuck me running have I not been able to secure a couple pictures along the way, as well. I’m by Rio Amazon right now. The highlands and the cold nights which go with the territory were really starting to get to me so I opted for the jungle. Humid as hell, but that’s to be expected. I’m actually just looking at my laundry, dripping moisture as it hangs dry. I have a feeling it’s going to be awhile.
Last night, stumbling onto an old, old picture of us messing around got me thinking. Isn’t it funny, how sometimes you can look at your younger self and barely recognize the boy. Then you take a closer glimpse, get to the eyes and see that spark. Of what’s beneath the responsibilities and hassles of everyday life. Of what makes us crack smiles, joke the way we do.
We’ve had our rows, big and small, but sincerely I’m full of pride to get to call you my friend. Keep on doing good my man.
Until the next time we break our comfortable silence.
Peace,
copacabana nights
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
Who hasn’t at some point pissed on a stranger? It happens in better circles with better medications. Weren’t you at the gig? Standing in the back, wearing the big hotdog shaped wig? I thought I recognized you. Just the leg, though. Don’t cut it all off! Of course it is. You’re friends with the guy who was climbing on the balcony in search of lingerie! I meant to stop you to ask you something but my cage felt too constricting and the gulasch they were serving was far too enticing. Not to mention the way the light was gleaming off that one silver bar. Maybe another time. I know, I know. You’re busy right now and I need to keep stepping. Might want to loosen your grip on that brass, though - no need to wave a piece around. Shh, put the damn cat down. What did it ever do to you? Shit, the manners on some people. Let me clean that mold off your blazer. You should really think about upgrading, that old thing’s seen better days. I know a cute little market where they sell these kickass capes! We could play hide and seek in traffic and if we wear all black, they’ll never catch us.
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
Someone asked me the other day if I was happy. At the time I was inebr-, well, inhibited from giving a cohesive answer. When I awoke the next morning, however, it was ringing in my head, outdoing the alarm clock.
I try to climb higher by reaching for handles left by past men, but they bore not my problems.
Off to work, there’s labor to be done.
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
I used to know
Rose all hell, until
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
I know it’s been awhile. Sorry. You know me.. Better than anyone else, actually.
You have your cold side as well. But even then, whenever you do flash that gorgeous smile of yours for even the briefest moment, I’m filled with enough resolution and warmth to weather the freeze.
Yours always,
Kalu
(Source: bluespec.blogspot.com)
