Friday, June 8, 2012

You are Oxford

Walking down Pullens Lane one last time, I say good-bye to the potholes on the ground. I remember a time when I was so afraid to walk down this road at night. Light rain falls, as is right. A woman struggles with her luggage. I walk as close as I can to the side to give her space. A gust of wind blows, and the branches of the trees by my side sway as if they are waving good-bye to me. I can hear them rustle through When You Were Young. The Killers has always helped me with leaving. I walk past the undergraduate halls, down John Garne Way to the corner shop. I buy two packs of cigarettes -- one is a spare. As always. I tell the shopkeeper that it is my last night here. He asks me where I am going. I tell him I am moving away. He smiles and says okay. I walk home, take a long look at the pond outside my hall, open the door to my flat, go into the kitchen and grab a beer -- my last.

We remember, then eventually we forget to remember. I have forgotten what it is to be cold. Through my tears, I will begin to remember. Yes, reader. I do cry. I prefer doing it when I am alone. Sometimes I fail, but I am human after all.

I will forget this place. When I am home, I will forget. That is a promise. I will forget wishing for the hand reaching for my shoulder, asking me to stay. The hand that never came. I watch the trees sway ominously outside my window. I hear my door clatter with the wind. But I will forget these images, and in time, I will forget Oxford.

One full circle. View from my window in Spring/Summer

But we never really do what we tell ourselves to, sometimes, do we?

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

On insomnia

Sleepless night? Tried to go to bed at half-past three in the morning but failed to do so? Tossed and turned? Felt like your brain was about to explode with all that thinking? Watched the walls of your room get brighter with the rising sun?

Crawl out of bed and write! I will reach seven thousand words tonight! Well, this morning, actually. Seeing that it's half five and all. Damn birds won't shut up.