A small and random retrospective of the past year. A time marked by the best friends, family, work, food, travel, and health, a year I’m certain younger me (last slide) would be proud of.
Alpine villages, coffee, cured meats, big mountain walls, and an ever-expanding father-son bond. The Italian Alps: if happiness could take a physical form.
Barcelona. To a near instant love affair, fresh meats, gelato, cheese, espresso, clubs, cigarettes, beer, wine, kisses in Gracia, pride in Sitges, unending best-friend-love, never have I been so wholly astonished.
Van life year three, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota, thirteen days of climbing, tired, hot, covered in unfathomably itchy bug bites, sunburnt, dehydrated, sleep deprived, mono-infected, busted hands and feet, but yet, as always, through some unexplainable magic, I fall even more in love, the West, thank you once again.
Pictures from a story I did on Central Park Lanes a bowling alley open since 1952 in East Boston.
A no frills, one of a kind, community spot.
“People have fun here. That’s all I can ask for. When the job gets boring, and I start having second thoughts, I try to tell myself this means something to a lot of people. That usually helps me,” Chuck Vozzella, owner of Central Park Lanes, said.
