Back to my roots

Ever have one of those moments when you feel like you've stepped back in time 20 years and are once again an 8 year old, not a care in the world, just living the day as days were meant to be lived? 

Me too. Today. 

I spent yesterday in Manhattan busting out a music video on a tight deadline, shuffling subways and busses, watching my fellow glassy eyed new york transplants speed walking through their day. Then a four hour commute on small freeways filled with angry minivan drivers intent on perfecting their fourth of july weekend.

And then I arrived in Worcester, and into the home of Bronwyn and Kenan and after a short car ride in a spanking new Subaru, to the shore of a tiny sparkling green pond in the middle of Massachusetts. I'd never seen this pond before but it was the same one as the eight year old Giles swam in, the same crystal clear green tinted water, the same overhanging pine trees on the edge, the same crumbly pebble beach, the same buoys, the same friends. 

It's good to be alive, it's good to be living, and it's fucking great to be with friends. Happy America day ya'll. May your path take you to your friends, pines and ponds. 

Sorry, I don't have pictures for this one, I was enjoying the moment.