So, New Brunswick was just extraordinary. More on that to follow. But I found these pictures I saved ages ago from one of my favorite Werner Herzog movies, Cobra Verde, and their drama and my contrition over my silence seemed a perfect combination.
I've also been thinking about Cobra Verde because last time I watched it was in Colombia with my friend Greg, who happens to be in the USA but half the country away. Coincidentally, Villa de Leyva, a very beautiful but hot town very near where Greg lives, was the setting for one of the best scenes in the film, where Cobra Verde befriends a fearless dwarf. The town has an immense shadeless square, a torturous expanse of sun and sandstone. It's thought a romantic place, but we found it sort of horrid though beautiful. I guess I just don't like sun.
Speaking of romantic, I really think Herzog is a Romantic:
These remind me of nothing so much as a Delacroix, or a Géricault:
As scattered as I am, somehow everything tends to come together. Ferry crossings over the Bay of Fundy recall tossed ships, and the Romantics who love them.