The perfume of memory. [Writing and photos]

Memories from this summer and all the ones before:

When we woke up the world was on fire. I remember the way the embers licked up the sky above the row of terraced houses and orange light poured in through my mother's windows staining the morning. And the smoke and ash that painted my dreams. They had lit the bonfires a day early. I thought orange must be the most mellow colour because the heat was dulling my senses. It was 5am and the sun was sharing the same canvas as the moon. I was sleepwalking and daydreaming and following my parents into the taxi, feeling drunk on lack of sleep and the fumes from the fires. On one side of the car I could see the rising sun, again painting the sky orange, the rays bleeding into the frame and across the view. I stared at it so long that when I tore my eyes away I had inky blobs in my vision in green and blue shapes; like I used to see when I was a child. On the other side of the car I could see the smoke.

When we were in La Rochelle I was both half asleep and half aware. Like when you're falling asleep in the back of a car and can hear the conversations happening around you. Someone else driving you, escorting you to your true destiny. But you feel safe. I felt like a woman half in bloom and interrupted. I was staring at the moon, I was like airport luggage being dragged along, following my parents blindly. No responsibility, no map, no compass.
But my compass always points to them. 

Summer holidays in foreign countries always feel the same and familiar. The lack of responsibility and being completely dependant on my parents is a deja vu nostalgia. Reminiscent to being a child and not knowing my home surroundings which I now know like the back of my hand. It’s okay to sleepwalk and daydream here. It's okay to be lost. It was both reminiscent of and a soft epilogue to my childhood.

There was an eclipse on the second night of our holiday. I didn't see it. I was on unfamiliar sheets and pillows too soft but the familiar smell of suncream and hot nighttime air soothed me. The next night we went to see the fireworks. This felt familiar again, the deja vu nostalgia. The world both soft and powerful, bursting into colours in front of my eyes. But there's time to watch it here. My sister was bathed in blue light and the children danced to pop songs under basket ball hoops and spoke in words I didn't understand. The crescent moon followed us home and the sunset stained the horizon like the film had been exposed to the light.

Deja vu nostalgia. The carousels and fireworks that sparkle and dissolve in the sky like my mother's perfume. Rental cars and are you wearing enough suncream? Hot tarmac that sizzles and melts in the heat, fingers sticky from candy floss. Pressed flowers, car rides and tan lines. Petals that fall in love me and love me nots, sweat pooling on my back. My shadow twice my size in the sun, freckles, sunburn, sour candy. Light painting shapes on the water. Us all laughing, breathing together. Me, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The last night we sat underneath the light of a three quarter moon and my mother brushed and plaited my hair. Deja vu nostalgia. Committing moments to memory. The collective memories from this summer and every summer before. I can feel the other days running underneath this one. I had forgotten that time like it was an old tape, a lifetime light years away. But I am reminded every summer. Like growing up is measured in these summers. Lips numb from ice lollies. Time and memories can't be measured though. They blur together. It's the perfume of memory when the light leaks in. Like a star spilled out across the black and infinite canvas and when I wake up here there is nothing but eternity.

Thank you for reading! For the photos I used a disposable/point and shoot camera to recreate my hazy memories and the quality of images I remember from summer holidays as a child. The film also gives the feeling of the deja vu nostalgia I talked about. It was a camera that we used to take on our family holidays and now it's a time capsule of those years.