“A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid any more.” - John Steinbeck
SEPTEMBER 2, 2016
Is it monsoon season in India?
Hermine is rattling the windows, pretending to be a hurricane. I have been watching a Bollywood film from the 80′s called Hum Aapke Hain Koun. Salman Khan is the lead, he is younger and leaner. I swoon a bit, wishing to be one of the beautiful Indian girls twirling in colorful saris behind him. I think about all the paths and feelings we experience through life, and how fleeting it all is. How much my heart swells with affection, curiosity, wonder. How brittle it is, delicate, sensitive, thin and cold, or dark and molten hot. I am reminded these days how romantic my soul is. Pat and I have been closer then ever, and living in this picturesque doll-house village it hard not to feel more romantic. Life is so romantic: eyes, hands, jewels, rain, songs, stars. Everything I love on this Earth is so romantic . Our home is tucked into the thick Savannah scenery like a warm candle on our busy mantel. Everything is smothered in hugs, butter, liquor, emotions. We exchange smiles across the dinner table, the kind that start without your brain noticing. It starts in the bottom lip and flows up to the corners: a grin. We play wrestle in a lazy hot summer day stupor. We sit in the dark listening to jazz and the storm outside, the smell of pine filling the room.
September 25, 2016
Aloe and rosewater. Coconut, lime, and verbena. Apple cider and lotus flowers. I am becoming obsessed with scent. I float around smelling the air, the dirt, and all the in between. Savannah smells of mystery, magic, and Spanish moss. I wonder what Scarlett O’Hara smelt like. I wonder what Georgia smelt like along the bluff before the paper factory. My mother smells like clean laundry and Laura Ashley perfume , and my father like denim and marijuana. I imagine what it smelt like in Henry the 8th’s castle and in Julia Child’s Paris kitchen on Rue 81.
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Lexi Boling for Vogue Korea February 2016 Issue out now!
Me in Georgia, only add a floppy hat, a mint julip and a pile of books.
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in a garden in a gutter
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Peaches baby. And honey.
I am moving to an enchanted city of spanish moss and old brick. Return to magic, move south like the birds. Live somewhere everyone else has to go on vacation to experience. Be open and airy and light. ▲
My mind is in Georgia.
My heart, scattered across the globe.
My body, Baltimore.
My youth, Connecticut.
My first breath, New York.
▲Ug I just want to be a photographer and make everyone see how beautiful they are
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