Converse

A compelling scene: six US college students sitting in the living room of a house on the outskirts of Santiago on a quiet and cloudy Sunday afternoon--one playing the Sims, one watching anime, one playing the Sims and watching anime, one reading, one creating light curves, and one blogging while contemplating the subtleties of life.

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I've been wondering about the graffiti on the streets here--or specifically, about the people who draw the graffiti. They're not the gangbangers of Los Angeles. Graffiti here is an art form, a channel for expressing ideas and creating visual meaning however possible. The artists probably spend a solid hour or two on even the simplest images, not to mention the quasi-murals that span the walls of entire building complexes. Yet for the most part, local pedestrians pass by without so much as a second glance. A variety of questions come to my mind: Who are these artists? What drives them? Do they care that their work is largely unappreciated day in and day out? Perhaps more pertinently, are there aspects and people in my everyday life back in the States that I take for granted instead of esteeming as I properly should?

I suppose these thoughts reflect a recurring motif in my life, the transcience of sensory experience and personal interaction. I feel the same way in Santiago as I do in airports and train stations: since I probably won't see 99% of the people I meet ever again, I wish I could find out more about their characters, their motives, their aspirations, and their life stories. Unfortunately, I lack the time and confidence to do so, but I try to make it up by (occasionally awkwardly) capturing moments of their lives through photography.

Significance.

More significance.

Who are you, Mr. Plant Waterer?

A conversation that I will never catch.

I wonder if this man enjoys his solitude.

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Yesterday, we took a weekend trip down to Valparaíso, Chile's cultural capital and primary seaport. The city was simultaneously magnificent and quaint, distinctly Chilean but with an interesting European twist. We toured by bus, ate at an upscale seafood restaurant, and walked through one of Pablo Neruda's three houses before heading back to Santiago. It hit me while standing on Neruda's third-floor balcony that I had never looked out across the Pacific Ocean before from anywhere other than Southern California. It was a little like catching up with an old friend, but still a bittersweet reminder that I won't be back home for a long time.

Bird mobile or immobile birds?

No one is too old to play with doggies.

Wine tasting at a winery. Delicious, according to my housemates.

Port Valparaíso and haze.

Couple on the street. Staring at the camera. Oops again.

Probably oil vessels, but just maybe ships embarking on a fantastic voyage.

Random hobby #13891: searching for unintentional optical illusions.

O_o

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It's hard to describe the way I feel right now in words, but I think the lyrics below, from John Mayer's "Clarity," do a pretty good job.

I worry, I weigh three times my body
I worry, I throw my fear around
But this morning, there's a calm I can't explain
The rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain

So long, until next time.