There is something about coming upon a cobblestone path that excites and enchants me. A feeling of mystery steep with historic sentiment that fills my soul. When I first visited London at 21 I became positive that if there are past lives... then I must have lived in it's cold, breathless, city. A connection. I felt in awe of the city's history and enraptured with the ancient bold and beautiful amongst the modern cold and colorful, a beautiful combination.
I feel so much like the city of London. A desire for the old and ancient, a memory long and sharp, and an awakening for all the new that has not yet emerged. A twisted personal desire to stand in both time frames at once. One foot steadily held in the wisdom of the past and one looking forward to a brave new world. An oxymoron if one exists but one I delight in.
I love the idea that I have left a footprint on the world. Everywhere I have been shares a small almost untraceable stain of my energy. I feel this energy when I walk on the surfaces of the earth. Who has come before me and what did they do? Where were they going and how did they feel? I am amazed at my own imaginations ability to construct images of a time before I. Even more striking though is walking upon a cobblestone surface. Knowing that history is etched in the footprints of those long gone but still very much alive. Have my footsteps crossed the traces of historic figures I admire? Did I gain just a bit of their energy as I passed the threshold?
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