Fifth Journey Day 1: Paper Cup Heat, Gloved Hand

Date: May 9, 2025
Location: Vancouver, Canada

I spent the afternoon by Coal Harbour, bundled up and calm. The sky was a solid gray, like a painting that's been left to dry without any messing around. The light was soft and diffuse, which made the city look more like a bunch of different colors layered on top of each other: glass against water, stone against mist.

I got a coffee from a stall with steamed-up windows. The lid didn't quite fit and leaked a bit, but it wasn't a big deal. There was something comforting about the heat seeping through the paper cup as I walked slowly to the waterfront.

I found a bench that faced the marina. The boats were anchored in a loose formation, their masts moving slightly, like breath. Behind them, buildings rose — not imposing, but watchful. I started sketching without feeling rushed. It's just a rough outline for now. The way the edges blurred into the fog. Like the time a crow stood on a lamppost and called out, then just stopped.

I thought about how arrival always feels stretched — not quite real yet. It's like I'm always a half-second behind the game. I'm physically here, but it's like my sense of time is playing catch-up. But taking the time to look closely — to draw without expectation — really helped me.

Two women passed by, laughing and breathing heavily. A dog barked somewhere out of sight. A plane took off from the water, and the sound of its engine briefly split the calm. I'd often pause, not because I didn't know what to draw, but because I wanted to stay in the noticing.

By the time I left, my fingers were stiff, and the paper had curled slightly at the edges from the damp. But I felt more present. I'm not fully there yet, but I'm getting there. It was like the skyline I'd sketched earlier: still soft and distant, but gradually taking shape.

I didn't talk to anyone today. That felt right.