Sky-pe

My obsession with the sky began in Brasil almost six years ago. São Paolo is such a shithole—the favelas made more incredibly drab by the polluted gray; the sharp blues of Buzios; the gleaming stars hanging over Belo Horizonte with Brian Wilson blaring from our Peugot; and the fog coat shrouding Sugarloaf on our last day.

In August of 2004 at Bistro 't Lammetje in Bruges, I scribbled a Duvel-fueled note in my journal:

I always notice the sky during all of my travels. It’s reliable and familiar, but each destination imparts a different hue and feeling to it. The sky here is soothing and quiet, like the Dutch art hanging in the Rijksmuseum.

I think of skies past, and I like them all: sunshine, fog, rain, haze:

Rio de Janeiro, Brasil (May 2000)

Antigua, Guatemala (November 2002)

Volcano Agua: Antigua, Guatemala (November 2002)

From the shinkansen: Atami, Japan (June 2003)

Grand Place: Brussels, Belgium (August 2004)

Museumplein: Amsterdam, Netherlands (August 2004)

Mauna Loa, Hawaii (February 2005)

Trafalgar Square: London, England (June 2005)

Jardin du Tuileries: Paris, France (October 2005)

My window in the Marais: Paris, France (October 2005)