Europe : : Prague, Czech Republic

My first night living in Prague I took a ride on tram 22 having not even the slightest idea where I was going or how many memories would eventually be made on that very tramvej dvacet dva. A mere half-day in I had already seen impressive works of graffiti sprawled over the blank spaces of the cityscape that weren’t determined to be of some historical importance. In the Czech Republic, graffiti is completely legal and considered to be an expression of free speech–a right of serious importance to the Czech people who for so long were censored under Soviet rule.

After getting off the tram, myself and a few others roamed around a bit, mostly just feeling giddy about being in Prague. I came across this graffiti heart down a lonely alley and was immediately struck by it for reasons that are still unclear to me. As one might assume, I naturally fell deep in love with Prague and yet of all the brilliant sights of art and architecture the city contains, this is the image I keep on coming back to when I think of this place. I could talk for days about this city and the feelings I harbor for it, but I think this simple, not-too-attractive image accurately depicts what I often pretend, which is that that’s my love letter to a city that’s not really mine, that that’s my messy heart painted pink and blue and scrawled with paint like ink.


‘Sights’ is a portion of ‘Stories From Untamed Waters’ that will cover the places that have influenced me, changed me and inspired me. Check back for more images and their stories.


Illgresi and Chomsky, There is a heart in danger!

I have an obsession with graffiti and tattoos. I intend to keep my tattoos fairly limited; no sleeves in my future, that is to say, but I am fascinated by the images and symbols people place on their body as well as the feeling that accompanies the ink. It’s an ethereal high to say the least.

I get asked a lot about my tattoo and it’s an odd thing because I feel as though I never really know what to say about it. My ship in a bottle is, perhaps, my favorite part of my body. I find it beautiful and simple and full of significance to me; part optimism for the future and part memory of a shaky past. It also marks a period of self-discovery, understanding and letting go. It’s wonderful to me to have that memory etched on my skin, almost as a reminder of what I have been through to get to where I am.

Eventually I’ll get a picture of it on here.
As for graffiti, I bring this up mostly because I love this picture….
…and I love all of the incredible art that marks the streets of Atlanta.

Soooooo…I’m listening to Sigur Ros a lot lately and with their Hopelandic thoughts streaming through my ears I wrote this little something to show and tell.
Mostly tell.

There is a heart in danger. Crumbling. Hoping. Aching.

A woman’s voice gone, crashing into silence. One reverberating octave ringing. The sound of her fist slamming the kitchen counter.

There is a heart in danger. Dreaming. Believing. Breaking.

One man clings to the feeling. A flood of familiar confusion. Objects beaten, subjects battered. His existence hanging crooked on the wall.

There is a heart in danger. Forgetting. Taking. Perforating.

Remembering yesterday’s tomorrow gone. The silence cuts fragments in his eardrums.

There is a heart in danger. Breathing. Beating. Broken.