This is forever; oh bah nay.

This post is a collection of shots over the span of the last two weeks. A date with Kitty to the Underground Cafe; a visit to my hometown and the building that ALMOST claimed my dear dad's life (close, but no cigar PTL); a mum, a dad; a skate competition at the Plaza featuring Wren, Sea Bass (Cara), Yosh, Tris, Paul, Bram, Sam, Amy, James and Chris; and one very scandalous wedding with the Zachs. Enjoy. (Photos are 'acomin'). Patience is a virtue.



























(More to commmmmmme [comme si, comme ca]).
Madge.

For Whom the (Wedding) Bell Tolls.

Many of you have been threatening to lend a hand when it comes to me meeting my maker earlier than planned. (Yes, I understand that one cannot pen in death, NATURAL death that is; but enough with the death threats fueled by your impatience). Here are the long awaited photos (lest we forget I shoot with FILM) from Gunner and Cheryl's wedding nuptial bliss on August tenth, 2007. Once again, congratulations gems.

Tit for tat; clang clang of glassware and a tip of the bowler hat.

The year of the Great Migration. To be frank, I never listened in school when we were taught about the Great Migration. I was too busy reading 'Little House on the Prairie' splayed open under the desk between my legs. With a brow knit in misinterpreted concentration, teachers never suspected a thing. To think: seven, eight, nine, ten years following the wake of those history lessons I am just starting to understand the concept of deracination or upheaval with fresh eyes only now. This year, dubbed silently by a close-knit circle of chums as the 'Year of the Great Migration' began with a thunderous and impulsive "YES" over wine and paella with a doe-eyed friend. Our clanging glasses rising and falling like music from toast after toast in the controlled chaos of the restaurant. The list was long and the food got cold. Yes to trips abroad, yes to change and singledom, yes to celebratory-worthy decisions made by close others, yes to new hobbies and a newfound self-awareness, yes to resolutions upheld, yes to marathons run and babies born, yes to engagements proposed and wedding bell follow-through, yes to bidding adieu to soft sisters and waving hello to foreigners. Many changes, many tears, many fits of laughter, many hours worked, many slept off, many dance nights, many bike rallies, many bouts of seasonal depression, many new friends and one broken heart, many dinner dates and many, many bottles of wine at the river (of tears in recent weeks) behind our man L. Riel. A good year so far, but the point of the matter is-- X marks the spot: the halfway mark. I have learnt plenty this year, and while the weight of knowledge (whether chosen or not) often threatens to swallow one's spirit whole, I choose to continue to say "yes" to change (whatever it may be) and welcome the subsequent shitstorm with my zebra umbrella-- open-armed and wild-eyed.

This photo was sent to me last week from Mave. She said I could fall in love with him if I wanted. Maybe not.



Sleep has escaped me once again despite of the fact that I work in a few mere hours. Eight hours of toil and treason at Fresh Cafe. By toil I mean unavoidable grueling heat and overtly sweaty bangs, and by treason I mean the unwarranted consumption of 17+ smoothies throughout the course of the day. I love my job, I do. Regardless, in the words of my earthly Father, "it is all part of the learning curve... travel is simply initiative to work and earn". How enlightening. Thanks, dad; you are a gem doll.

Adieu. Europe here I come; twenty-one forever young.
Madge.

I bid you adieu, Lady Birds.

This one is for you Loco Ono; my one and only friend who watches this site with eagle eyes. Enjoy each and every black and white shot and know that you are loved more than anything else. I miss you and will be sure to pass on your wise (and apologetic) words to Cousin J-Fridge. My fingers are crossed across my chest that the Land 'O Plenty has worn holes through your jeans and melted your heart to dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Blessings to all of my migrating/ed Lady Birds (Erin, Lo and now Mave) be well and find your hearts taped to the underside of cafe chairs, buried in a stack of pagmena's or street pad thai, bound in a stack of dusty French vinyl or floating behind light eyelids in Venice. Be well, be well. You are loved plenty.

Across the dump, with love. Your Madgesty.