Nantes – Racial Memory, Disquietude & Rememberance (Part 2)
My journey is mine. The goals I would accomplish on my journey are mine. I will bring back the Golden Fleece of my own perfected self. The goals I choose direct me to the center of my being. In that secret, sacred place, I dwell serenely full of the understanding that comes with wisdom. [Joseph Dispenza. The Way of the Traveler.]
These photos were taken over a period of two consecutive evenings. The first visit occurred on 9/13 after I’d toured The Castle of the Dukes of Brittany at the conclusion of what I thought was a perfect ending to an afternoon of sightseeing in Nantes. Not so! The real journey was only about to begin the moment I ventured along the waterfront the first evening and continued during my Paris visit. In Nantes, I was completely oblivious to images on the slave memorial wall but stopped in my tracks when I saw the vessels that first evening.
On the waking path–I felt a profound disturbance in my body when I caught sight of the ships. Shaking hands, fumbling fingers, accelerated breath and all, I inadvertently deleted all of the chateau photos and the first set of ship and dock photos. I was momentarily distressed about the lost photos. But I was also acutely aware of something transpiring in the moment—a dispatch being delivered to me. It wasn’t until I began to walk back to my hotel that I noticed the images on the memorial wall, in that moment I got my marching orders: PAY TRIBUTE.
I poured librations; the ancestors were appeased, the sky(e) and water was alight.
Marche Des Esclaves – The Walking of the Slaves (French performance/ritual on YouTube)
Too real to be mythological. 
Photo credit: Skyediver 2010
 A deft phrase borrowed from a blogger pal, khorine. Luv it!