Today I went to the breathtakingly beautiful Rodin exhibit at the Royal Academy of Art, here in London. I walked through gallery after gallery of cast human likenesses so real, I could almost see the hair on their arms, and the shake in their muscles from holding so still. The experience of viewing sculpture is an apt metaphor, I think, for traveling. In travel, though, it is not an artwork, but one’s own self that must be placed on a plinth and walked around, studied for its composition.
I apologize if I seem overly reflective tonight. Tomorrow, I promise, there will be more celebrity high jinks. Until then:
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