Today was a day of movement and travel. A day of shifting time and space. I traveled over a mountain range flying into the rising sun. The mountains became little more than patterns of shifting color and contrasting values. I landed in Denver airport with its Dr. Seuss-like peaks (that is the second image above). The sun and I crossed paths and I lost two hours from my day when I arrived in Montreal.

Traveling is a sensory experience. I love the sensation of being pressed back into the seat on take off. I love closing my eyes and feeling the subtle motions of the aircraft as it defies gravity and uses the power of air to lift its too solid and heavy frame above that which is lighter.

I traveled from Montreal airport in a taxi. We weaved in and out of downtown traffic in smooth fluid curves.



I am in my hostel room four floors above the busy street. From my window I can see the balconies of the building across the road. The grand vistas of Woody Creek where the magpies fly and you can see forever are gone (the upper most image is from Highway 82 on the way to Aspen, CO). The language here is French but not Parisian French. It is the French of Quebec.

Traveling is a reorientation. It highlights both the familiar and the unfamiliar. I think traveling to go to a convention focused on the fiction of ideas doubly expands the experience. I am looking forward to both the convention and to Montreal.

The image below is the Palais des Congres de Montreal where the convention is to being held.