11/9, no. 66

Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts

One of the reasons as to why I love that my dad used to live in Boston is his awareness and understanding with the city, a familiarity that often makes him want to seek other destinations when we go back east. So, instead of simply dwelling on the city (which I would not mind at all), we often go other towns in Massachusetts, like Medford, Gloucester, Rockport, and Concord (which is perhaps my favorite place in Massachusetts after Boston). For those unfamiliar with the small town, it was residence to authors like Louisa May Alcott (Little Women) and Henry David Thoreau (philosopher, various works), and it's also home to sweet ol' Walden Pond, which is an incredible domain of tranquility and history. Thoreau lived on the shores of the pond where he found inspiration and a breath of writing. What I love about it is its plainness; all it really is is a small area of woods and a body of water (with a bench underwater, which is so creepy and beautiful all at once). Its significance lies in its history. One could be walking around and unknowingly be meandering the home of one of the great minds in transcendentalism, since there exists virtually no publicity or means of tourist attraction. In fact, most people at the pond (when I visited) treated it purely as a beach and nothing more. Did they not feel the monumental atmosphere of intellectual capacity that once lived in this area? It was all in my head.

It
was
all
in
my
head.

And here's the not-so-secret truth: I'm infatuated with water.