I am very sensitive to the atmosphere– to the light and humidity and temperature.
This time of year, I am remembering in a powerful, Proustian way my experiences from last summer.
It is summer and it is July. As I walk around and experience the heat and the light, the bright light and intense heat of the day, I remember last summer when Miles and I spent a few days in Rochester for his photojournalism workshop.
Earlier this evening, I was walking through Lewisburg and it was just at dusk, the magic hour. It was like Rochester last year. The whole town was bathed in the beautiful light of the evening. Miles was busy during the day but he was free after 4 pm, so he and I spent the evenings exploring Rochester and we walked often in the evening light, the warm light we are sometimes granted at the end of the day. I remember leaving the record shop in that light. I remember walking to the beach and looking out on the lake in that light. I remember walking out of the restaurant in that light where I had a delicious mushroom sandwich. Much of my favorite memories on that trip happened in those evenings when it was a beautiful light, perfect for pictures and ideal for enjoying the world, especially this new little city we both got to know a bit.