lately i haven't felt much like writing about myself. or i have, but it has always passed. it's been a strange few weeks - a time that might be good to capture here. but one that is also gone. i prefer to write about today.
the cold air, my weary eyes, the snacks i just ate for dinner. time to leave my library home soon. but yet to complete my task (a thesis chapter outline). instead i message friends on facebook.
facebook is a reminder that i still have friends. most of them i never see. partly my fault, but mostly due to circumstances. i've been preoccupied with nutting out my new parameters - where i live, work, play, and how my relationship with mark can accommodate this, or not. at the end of these few weeks, it seems it can.
the anger felt at the corner of crown and cleveland streets is gone. but i remember my breathing, my near explosion. and i move on. and away.
so much for writing about now.
randwick is nice. i feel very comfortable there. the balcony off the kitchen is where i read in the morning sun, with toast and coffee. the bedroom is filled with books and fabrics and new things to notice each day when i wake. this morning i noticed a shelf of lanterns, all different colours. there are many books on the bedhead that i also own. i like this familiarity. this connection. i like my window views, the streets i walk to get to uni, the deli at royal randwick plaza, the music that guides me through these streets.
and in a couple of weeks i'll be getting used to a new home and new neighbourhood. new people with new things to live amongst. i'm looking at potential homes on thursday.
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