what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans, and you didn’t hike that mountain all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. don’t let this happen.. (anne lamott)

Istanbul: short stop before reaching kathmandu.

first morning in our apartment in kathmandu.