In Medias Res

I'd like to leave aside introductions and just begin.

I just got back from DR. There was a moment when we were in the "taxi" from Sanchez to Las Terrenas when I thought, "I want to move here." This part of the country is near no cities of note and is actually just a mountain road in between two towns. But there was something in the look of it. I know that I'm romanticizing when I think about living there. And I know that I don't understand what it's like when I think about people living and dying on that little mountain in cinder block homes with no electricity or running water. And even though I know that, I still feel like it would be so good to put aside the game and just work to eat. Work to sleep. Work to talk to your neighbors and have a family. I guess I'm responding to a lack of material goods that I find appealing. I feel guilty for writing this because, again I know that the lives of the people who live on that mountain are not so simple, rustic or bohemian or whatever. I guess it just made me think about the weight that my life has to it with all of my things. (And I really limit myself. Comparitively speaking.)

Well, there it is. I think that might be the image I end up remembering from this trip: those houses and that mountain and the people and me thinking that I want to live right there.