I wish I could remember how it felt when you died.Read More
I hug my family at Heathrow, say goodbye, and nobody cries. Well, my mom cries, obviously. A mixture of feelings ripple through my body as I walk to meet Teresa and Tally. Anxiety, apprehension, imagined future regrets, a general sense of ‘oh fuck what am I doing?’, and excitement...I think.Read More
You wake up, although you’re not sure you actually slept. Today will be the same as yesterday, only completely different. Everything feels surreal, as if time has been slowed down, then sped up again. Everything feels normal, but not quite right. The tram feels like it’s flying, but not moving, and the world passes by the window in slow motion, or fast forward. You definitely didn’t sleep.Read More
You start with the end. Which is actually an end, rather than The End. This end is also a beginning, as ends always are. But let's not confuse things. Although there will be many of these ends in your life, for now focus only on this one. This end can be anything you want it to be, anything you really want. It can be a place, or a thing. It can be a person, or people. The end can be a feeling.
I've been thinking about stories a lot recently. Mainly because I've been reading, and trying to write, a lot of them. The only thing I remember from English lessons is that 'every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end'. So, are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
One: I wake in the new year on a boat. I sit and I drink coffee and nothing feels different, but everything feels possible. This has nothing to do with the new year of course, or a new me. This is life. Even when nothing is different anything is possible. Especially when nothing is different actually. This boat has the potential to sail anywhere in the world, but for now it is anchored and still. Everything is possible.
You are awake. You are alert and engaged enough to read this thing on a Monday, which you can chalk up as a victory. Even though this thing is in an email, which often feels like the opposite of a victory. Which is a loss.
It’s 4:08am and I can’t sleep. I feel restless in a way that’s different to every other night that I’ve been unable to sleep. The BBC weather app tells me that the sun will rise at 4:53am, so I decide to make a flask of coffee and head to the beach to watch it. As I’m walking I try to remember the last time I was out early enough to see the sunrise and I can’t, it’s been a while.