I have always been a traveller of sorts. Day-to-day domestic travel, the occasional international or interstate (when I am in Melbourne of course) journey, or even travelling to cities of days past through movies and popular fiction.
I wish I was there during the monumental periods in history, brushing against priceless photograph-worthy occurrences. The Aztecs, Normandy, the Crusades, Cristobal Balenciaga's personal dress fittings in his Parisian salon, travelling as Christopher Columbus' companion...the list goes on.
(An interesting point to note is the astoundingly rapid progress of man from the archaic times to the stylish, contemporary present. What is deemed passé and ugly has given way to opulence, decadence, strife, consumerism, natural disasters...the list lengthens each day as we move closer to an unfathomable outcome.)
A trip down memory lane, or rather, the days of yore, brings with it the renewed thrill of unearthing something. A flight of fancy to uncover objects of fancy, with added perils. Oh, the irony. Not that I worry anyway. Nothing is surprising nowadays. Retrospection never does any harm. First up, the Yucatån Peninsula, Mexico, back 3000 years to the Maya Civilization.
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