1.1.18 Venezia

There is an otherworldliness in greeting the New Year in an ancient, foreign city. The worn buildings and murky waters of the canals are juxtaposed with McDonalds, Chanel, and Dior — monuments to modern capitalism.

With so much attention paid to where we’ve come from — our familial and societal “roots” — I cant help but wonder where we are headed.

I’m in the land of Machiavelli and Mussolini, horrified by the neo-fascism of Trump and Bannon, and yet I write this in a gilded and glittering old palace-turned-hotel. The irony does not escape me.

How to move forward while I myself am so fascinated by (indeed often fixated upon) the burnished glow of the sepia-toned, oil-stroked past…

Where is the line between being mindfully rooted or being stuck as if on flypaper?