Once I discovered reading, as in really discovered the joys of it, I was a goner. Instantly, my near permanent "new kid" status didn't sting as much because I had entire worlds to explore and so many characters to befriend. That started at when I was around seven or so. We had moved into a big Victorian home (gigantic from a kids point of view) and my bedroom was in the former maid's quarters at the end of the hall near the back stairs to the kitchen. For some reason still unfathomable to me, as I am not nor ever was a princessey kind of girl, I chose pink as the main color theme when it came time to redecorate (this being one of the few rooms in the house that did not have the original wallpaper). Pink it became. And so perhaps it isn't so surprising now, looking back, to see how I took refuge in the cedar-lined closet instead. I would make a little nest out of dirty clothes and with the bare bulb overhead would read until the world around me faded away entirely. My Mom has told me that at times she had to call my name repeatedly before I would "snap to." And I still remember that feeling of being sucked back from wherever I was - walking down the street with David Copperfield - and being washed back up on the shore of that safe, small room within a room, blinking. In reading, sometimes I went so far into the weave of a story that the lines of reality blurred a bit. I was fuzzy on the edges. I would think, "I should call so and so" only to realize that I was thinking about one of the characters.
That is how I have been feeling for the past few days. A different kind of limbo. I am deep in the pages of a book that many of you have read already (I am not saying which as I don't want anyone to give me even the tiniest suggestion as to what happens) and it is all I can do. Is read. Somehow this story has chained itself to my heart so strongly that I feel like I am carrying the book around with me even when I am not. I get lost and look at the clock and hours have passed.
That can happen occasionally too with instagram. No, the hours don't pass - I am not that addicted! But I find a certain hum in the scrolling and scrolling with my thumb through peoples days, their lives and adventures. It feels oddly luxurious. I am sharing a few recent photos from my account as they are better suited for the mood that I am in. Less formal, not everything is in focus, which in itself is perfect for Provence, especially at this time of year. Little pieces of in-between or that's me, just down the rabbit hole.
Another thing that I appreciate about instagram is the swiftness with which information passes, quicker than a tin-can telephone! And so today, when Sara Louise (@cestmoisaralouise) posted a photo of her canine friend Fifty, I was able to get in on the action. It turns out that if those of us who have adopted dogs post a photo on ig with the adoptee adorned in a red ribbon with the tags @anniemovie and #ImARescueToo, $1 will be donated to the ASPCA. Isn't that amazing? Ps. Something that I learned about him in taking this photo? That he was quite pleased wearing it - which rather surprised me and made me wonder if he didn't wear a bandana around his neck in his "previous" life. Something else that I learned about him later on in the day? Firecrackers truly piss him off. Eh, oui.
For those of you that already follow me on instagram - all 411 of you! Hooray! - I hope that you don't mind the photo repeats in this post too terribly. And for those of you that don't, feel free to join me at @lostinarles...
To everyone? Have a wonderful weekend...