cristobal.space/writing/2023.html

It's been an ambulant year. Four months of travel, interspersed amongst half a year in East Williamsburg and another half in the backroom of a loft in the Lower East Side, without kitchen or bath, supplemented instead by a monastic schedule of swimming, sauna, and shower at the Chinatown YMCA. The lease for my "industrial garret" had ended in mid-June and, feeling a bit ambivalent about it all, I carved out time to wander. Now, at the year's end, waiting at the gate for my flight to Fort Lauderdale to visit my parents (For Loderli, in proper Miameño), it's time for this yearly ritual. The main theme has been of place—the rhythms one inhabits amongst different cultures, as manifest in language and architecture, and the harmonies and dissonances of travelling between them. I began the year in Brazil, pointing my phonokinograph around to try and capture the sound and vision of carnival. We shuffled through the meandering (yet, planned!) streets of Butantã, singing samba and pagode as the

It's been an ambulant year. Four months of travel, interspersed amongst half a year in East Williamsburg and another half in the backroom of a loft in the Lower East Side, without kitchen or bath, supplemented instead by a monastic schedule of swimming, sauna, and shower at the Chinatown YMCA. The lease for my "industrial garret" had ended in mid-June and, feeling a bit ambivalent about it all, I carved out time to wander. Now, at the year's end, waiting at the gate for my flight to Fort Lauderdale to visit my parents (For Loderli, in proper Miameño), it's time for this yearly ritual. The main