past and present tense by stephen voss



Each new city we visit feels like a chance to start over, an escape hatch from the known, everyday life. On these worn streets, we are outsiders, beholden to no one, unseen. And I think what I always think—what if we stayed? Coffee at that cafe each morning.  Stumbling up worn stone steps in a dim stairwell to the apartment overlooking a courtyard overgrown with tropical plants. Returning home is a manageable regret that stands in for larger regrets. But in these moments I waver between the known and the unknown world, and let the freedom of these thoughts crowd out all of the rest. 

Photo: Fez, Morocco

Stephen Voss