Among other things, my family has given me the Hoarder Gene. Thus whenever I am traveling, I collect scraps (tickets, maps, miscellany) to store away forever. After I studied abroad in 2012, I wound up with a whole box of various bits and pieces, and little idea what to do with them. In spring of 2014, as I neared the last six months of my time in Bath, England, I happened upon a charming photo album on sale at Paperchase. In retrospect, I think it’s actually meant to be a wedding album, but at the time I had two thoughts:...
So one or two things have happened in the last few weeks. And by one or few things, I mean a whole ton of stuff. At the beginning of October, my parents came to England for a series of fun adventures. We drove around because my dad considers it a personal challenge to take on as many foreign roads as possible. Bookstores were visited and historic sites toured. Our trip included high tea with my dad, which was something a little like trying to have high tea with Ron Swanson. At the end of October, my parents helped me pack up...
10. Mont St Michel, France Before dawn, when the tourist buses haven’t arrived and cats rove the alleys with bleary-eyed delivery men—that is when Mont St Michel is alive. You stumble half-asleep through its medieval streets, and in the cold and the dark it’s not a tourist trap, it’s timetravel. You stand on the old walls, look out at the treacherous marshes and watch the tide come in. At first the water hardly seems to stir, but then you look away, look back, and the ground’s vanished. When the monastery opens, and you elbow past the late-comers to an empty nave, echoing...
Originally recorded on August 4, transcribed below. (Note: The recording cuts off because a lady came by walking her dog so I had to stop talking to myself.) https://alyssahollingsworth.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/4-August.m4a Where do I begin? How do I begin here, at your beginning? Your country is beautiful. I’m watching it now—green and lush. The sun is setting, the grass golden and the flowers are white in the field. Crows and pigeons call to each other and fly from tree to tree. The cows graze. The whole neighborhood smells of manure, homely and thick. This is your country, and it’s beautiful. Is this...
Some of you may be aware that Letter to an Unknown Soldier made it on Buzzfeed. I thought I might take a stab at my own sort of Buzzfeed-style feature. You can read it below the cut. (more…)
I worked with Letter to an Unknown Soldier to create a digital memorial for WWI by asking people to write letters to the unknown soldier in Paddington Station. We had an astounding result–over 21,000 letters. And several of those were by my classmates, friends and family! Similar to the daily featured letters on the website, I’ve gathered these letters together so that you can read them side by side. One of the fabulous things about this project is how the letters talk to each other—how they enter a dialogue together. I hope that by reading the very different entries below, you’ll be encourage to think...
I have been working since the end of June with Letter to an Unknown Soldier, a project which created a digital memorial for WWI by asking people to write letters to the unknown soldier in Paddington Station. We had an astounding result–over 21,000 letters. They came from the UK, from New Zealand, from Egypt, from Iceland. They were written by prisoners, school children, mothers, and politicians (including a prime minister). At times they were sweet, at times funny, at times heartbreaking. It’s been an amazing project. This is my last week working for it. We closed our submissions on Tuesday, and...
As you may or may not know, I have been traveling from April 10th-April 29th with my mom and sister. In our mildly insane adventure, we went from Paris across northern France, then to Somerset and Cornwall before winding up in London. Instead of taking the time to type up all my journal entries (which are nearly half my new journal anyway), I thought I’d do a roundup post and just give you guys the sweet stuff. (more…)
