After a whirlwind of work and social activities, it was time to make another escape.

Attempting to write while in my normal life (aka result-driven rollercoaster, aka burn-out planet), I am starting to wonder what is actually normal; running around like a headless chicken with a permanent sense of sleep deprivation and eternal rush, or walking through the mountains with nothing more than the sound of birds and the smell of pine trees?

I am first spending the week with my parents in their tiny mountain village, 500 metres above the sea, where the unannounced placement of a new stop sign is the most turbulent commotion of the day.

Here, I can stop and take stock while preparing for my stay at the Joya Air art residency next week. I can not wait to head off and be around people who take art for granted -but in a good way. The normal way.