Everything in Provence touches your skin. The leaves of a rose bush may brush against your arm as you walk through a field. The light in the morning rakes angularly though a room illuminating your face. “Bonjour” the day says. The oil from the olives stick to your fingers, which I always enjoy rubbing into my hands like lotion. Wine inevitably presses againt your lips filling you with the energy of the vine, of life, that surrounds you in this sacred place. The air kisses your cheeks while you lay on a blanket under the dappled afternoon sun. Everything, though seemingly still, is alive here if you just slow down to feel it…
A collection of vintage SX-70 Polaroids of our moments spent in Provence
