No matter where we go, how far we travel, there will always be a tug to go back home, to a place where we can close our door to the world and be safely alone for a moment, a place where we can hang our laundry to dry.
There was a time in the late 80’s and early 90’s when Soho and its converted lofts and warehouses, was home to art and artists that were seeking a place far enough from the mundane to be able to create. It was a time when this area felt so unique, so inspiring and so special. Actors, artists, writers, musicians, dancer, they all moved there and lived in wonderful anonymity. Then commercialism arrived and we watched it slowly transform this area into a huge faceless mall. And as Art appears to be shy, it fled and found new areas to inhabit. Nolita was one new home and later Chelsea and the meat packing district. Because somehow art and commercialism cannot be good roommates.
The Ponte Vecchio (old bridge), dedicated in its past to butcher shops, it is charming beyond belief as it sits in bright colors over the Arno river. It reminded me fo Lego blocks, something else that makes me smile 🙂
Places of worship continue to vibrate with the intentions of the people who built them and those who used them to utter their prayers…
In the Egyptian desert, near Elephantine Island, is an abandoned coptic monastery that dates back to the 6th century. It is one of the biggest coptic monasteries in the world and it still stands despite a very long time of human abandonment. There are so many stories to be told by the stones of its old walls and by the dents from the many footsteps on its worn out floors. A place built with strong intentions, a gathering center for those who were seeking the solitude of the desert for their spiritual contemplations, a special place with tales to tell.