In All the Wrong Places | 14 February 2020

Liz Norment — Fri, 14 Feb 2020 18:17:00 +0000

This is a photo of me and my boyfriend taken in the mirror of a bathroom somewhere in Bushwick and I don’t want you to be too concerned about that. I knew from the moment we met that we were going to cause trouble together, and probably a lot of it. And I liked that prospect. Because trouble alone leaves you with a lot of explaining to do. Trouble together leaves you both in stitches, laughing and running down the sidewalk.

Since we met, we’ve spent an evening committing 40 misdemeanors with the help of a rental car that we drove over 300 miles around the island of Manhattan, with a tarp protecting the evidence in the trunk. We’ve admittedly seen more sunsets as a result of forgotten bedtimes rather than ambitious mornings. We’ve traversed continents, slowly sipping drips of absinthe in seductive bars in Paris and climbing ruins over 6000 years old in Lebanon while simultaneously trying to avoid my ex-boyfriend (it’s a long and very strange story, but mostly, it’s history) We’ve drunk wine from a bota snuck underneath my dress in the middle of summer at the 601st running of a biannual horse race in Italy. We’ve chosen to sleep in a tiny Fiat instead of the Villa it was parked in front of because of what was definitely a ghost. We’ve found our bathing suits just in time to see the fun police prancing up to our lean-to on horseback on a beach in Queens. We’ve laughed and screamed so loudly in our apartment, I feel like I should leave monthly fruit baskets for the neighbors.

I wanted someone to be wild with, and I found him. Wild with passion, in all of its polarizing and tantalizing beauty.

City love, I suppose they call it. I think I’ll hold onto it.

why we travel… reason #8.

Liz Norment — Thu, 11 Feb 2016 01:18:59 +0000

to seek, find, lose, and rediscover love. in all of its captivating complexity.

because stagnation is so definitively isolating, we move, we travel, we seek love- in a city or person that will deeply connect to our souls, immediately and relentlessly. and to find this is something unique and unshakable. you hold on to those moments where your heart is warmed, your soul is illuminated, so much so that you can only put your hand to your chest so it absorbs the energy and keeps it from nearly bursting. those moments, that inexorable magnetism of the soul, the insatiable curiosity of the mind, the often fleeting nature of the heart- that connect us deeply, if often momentarily, to a kindness in a person, the exactness of a place, a sight unseen that we will always crave again. it’s those moments that that move us so viscerally that we know our hearts and bodies will never leave.

but as explorers we are, travel on we must. and to leave, to experience this melancholy of departure is a pain that is all too familiar to lovers and travelers- sharing one last look, one last touch, a few final words that will inevitably seem to fall short. the beautiful tragedy of goodbye. be it to a person or a place, a moment or an opportunity. and the only tangible thing left in your hand and your heart is the inevitable uncertainty as to when you will feel that next- what road you will be on that it will hurt so badly again to have one last look, one last inhale, one last goodbye. and the hopeful certainty of returning is often the only thing often that keeps our feet moving forward.

and to finally return, to that city or those arms, after being apart for an indefinite amount of space and time. a boarding pass in your hand, a once-familiar destination in your heart, you’re filled with the desire to embrace the experience still containing that same wide-eyed curiosity, exploring every enticing curve and stubbly imperfection of a cobblestoned street or lover’s skin. and you can’t help but desire to relive the love you had- to walk down the same streets, hand in hand. to witness sunsets from such great heights, to taste food, to sip wine, to gaze endlessly at intangible vistas or into familiar eyes longing to dive in or to sit and absorb the view from afar, with your heart and your mind only slightly ajar. while retaining a deep, impenetrable connection that is transcendent, always, of a moment or a distance.

and even months later, to get a roll of film developed and realize that you know every angle that lies steps beyond the narrow view of what the shutter captured, or just how a pair of shoulders feel beneath a t-shirt now draped in black and white emulsion. and equally with a melancholic longing and a satisfying warmth in your heart, you know that no part of it will ever leave you.

and that, is why we travel. to seek, find, and rediscover love. to lose ourselves and find each other in the process, in the ebb and flow of insatiable exploration. to leave a part of our hearts in each place, knowing that it has also gained so much, that it can only move on stronger than before. and that finally our heartbeats will populate and empower so many city streets, so many strangers’ chests, so many nights and days and moments and lives that our own will exist to seek cadence beyond our humble chests.

for love. is why we travel.

Brooklyn, I'm Trying

In All the Wrong Places | 14 February 2020

why we travel… reason #8.