love in bison plaza

This handsome guy stands at the entrance to the Indianapolis Zoo. I love him. The hooded eye, the nest of curls, the grave and weary drag of the face reminds me of an emperor, tired, wise, all crowned in spears of laurel.

indianapolis

This time last year, I was here:

Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio, on Costa Rica’s Pacific shore. And now I’m homebound, and desk-bound, with no chance of getting lost somewhere. An impromptu day trip to Indianapolis was the best I could manage.

It may not have the sea-shrouded glamour of a Pacific escape, but I was happy. Just sitting on the Megabus, going, awaiting, feeling flat land lope by, I was happy. Neurons blazing in those parts of the brain that only come alive when you go somewhere else, when you write a whole new map, stitch it onto the edge of the world you know.

Walked around the empty downtown, climbed old rock walls by the river. Robins were plumply, rosily everywhere. And I managed to get sun-burnt, which made it feel even more like a proper vacation.