At some point you revisit the places you have been to you begin to see them differently. When I think of this hall I don’t see the floor patterns, but rather the silhouettes that stood at the end of hallway. I don’t see the chairs, but rather the people who filled them. I see the stage, but also the people who used it as a start for a something hopeful. I can barely hear the music, but it’s clear how it had created an atmosphere of it’s own.
It’s strange how when we talk about Queenstown we never mention Dunedin. Perhaps I haven’t been listening. After a long night drive to East we navigated again early morning hoping to find this beach. What we didn’t expect was finding our favorite sunrise for as long as we can remember. The air was thick and lined with sea salt and the locals, few and far between in this perfect hour, were shapes and silhouettes going about their usual routine - walking dogs, taking pictures, having conversations. For a second it felt like we were a part of this silent parade and we were sharing this backdrop for inspiration and reflection, reminded of our imperfections and resolving to be better. I guess there will always be a piece of us at this beach.