it’s like cranes in the sky

I run away from everything. I acknowledge that I need to change this.

listening to 10am Gare du Nord by Keaton Henson at 12:43am

letting go of those places and faces seems less possible despite the deeper void, growing each day with time. a year ago, exploring foreign countries alone, meeting strangers and marvelling at galleries and buildings and views from my train windows. soon to be a year since finding home in England. I don’t see the point in pretending not to hold on to those precious months: I relive a supercut in my head most nights. life continues, though my heart feels oceans away.

15.08.2020

my days are filled by momentary distractions from wishing for a time that has long since expired.I miss and I miss and I miss. is this how it is to be?

August 5th

today I checked the date on lockscreen and read August 5th. this date is one of importance to me now, as it was on this day last year that I boarded my first flight from home and began the early steps of my adventure. the year has flown without my choice, and the mere label of ‘year’ being placed between the person typing this and the one boarding that flight from Hobart International Airport to Tullamarine Melbourne seems incapable of encapsulating the breadth of experience, emotion and connection between us.

the journey itself had me daunted by just the idea of leaving home. it had been a rough semester, tougher than the others I’d trudged through until that point. my existential burrowing had reach new depths, though it seemed as though such internal spirals were leading me nowhere. I held onto my family as a life-preserver, and paddled as vigorously as possible to keep my friends close. the thought of leaving this place, these people - even this woefulness and existentialism, in which I had grown so comfortable - scared me. I had never been far from home without my brothers or parents. I had never ventures so far from home alone. everything about this journey was foreign and daunting to me. at points during that preceding semester, I had openly doubted my capacity to survive away from the familiar for so long. it didn’t seem realistic or possible to me. I believe I will remain grateful for the rest of my life for the nudge from my loved ones to face this doubt and leave.

on August 5th 2019, I kissed my family goodbye. I was aware that for the following five months, I would be on my own and left responsible for myself in places I had never been, surrounded by faces I could not imagine but now seem so vivid and irreplaceable in my mind. the faces once unreachable, ghostly and intimidating, now treasured reminders of people who brought depth and richness to my adventure. longingly missed family and friends from Italy. acquaintances turned companions through missing trains in foreign cities at midnight or crowded hostel dorms or venturing into the field of international diplomacy without a clue. a German brother, an adopted Norwegian family, my French sister. the faces of strangers forced to mingle in the lobby of a shabby hotel in Lewes, East Sussex, a quiet town set ablaze each year on November 5th as the nation’s bonfire capital. strangers discovering and exploring the village and campus and the highs and lows of Brighton’s nightlife and the pubs and the depot cinema and TESCO and the benefits of the Lansdown Arms, the finest institution in southern England.

everybody is a stranger until further notice. I was born to strangers who I now recognise as my parents, to whom I owe the world. these companions were once strangers to me. now they live in my memories, albeit far away. I think of studying with Jan in Karafe, or in my room as the early 3:30pm sunset saw us collapsing on the beds for naps, only to be woken by a chirpy Emma, our older sister, returning from school to wake us up and hear about our days. I think of facemasks with Fieke, who knew what I needed whenever I was hurting. dancing with Meredith in Lansdown, or with Eliu in the kitchen, my neighbour I’d visit regularly, sharing her room with Pamela, the owner of a laugh I wish I heard every day. movie nights and tea time in room 53, my neighbour Fania making us laugh, walks at dusk with Lukas and Mat. collapsing on Joel’s bed after school, listening to his music and marvelling at Nash’s latest projects. short-lived hommus nights with Hannah and Stacey. an unlikely ensemble from all corners of the globe, storytelling with one foot in the stream: Lauren, Rachel, Adam and Sam. attending a wrong orientation to meet Simon, selecting his namesake plant shortly afterwards. happiness and tearful hugs goodbye. Nadia, Hillary, Mike, Bing, Lexi, Christina, Alex, Sam, Vergil, Samantha, Katka, Rachel, Isabelle, Liberty, Pach, Sarah. it goes on.

treasured memories. I hold these in my heart - the good and the bad and the sad and ridiculous and those I recollect and have to laugh at. a year ago today, I boarded a plane. I could have never imagined where that decision was going to take me. my life, though now caught in a cycle of missing and perpetual longing for the places and people I hold dear, is all the better for this period of uncertainty. I am overwhelmed, and I am glad that I left and boarded that plane.

distance

the distance is terrible. why so far? 

July

it’s cold. winter has well and truly settled and I’ve given in to layering myself to keep the chill away. things are gradually returning to normal here, and I’m lucky to be seeing friends more often, whilst spending precious time with family. everything kept moving despite the game changes, and we all remain on track it seems, making progress towards completing or advancing and improving whatever we’re working on or through.

I spend time thinking about the world I left behind when I boarded my flight from Heathrow in December. a lot of the time it feels as though I’m reflecting on a story I’ve read, rather than one that happened to me, rather than a period of rich emotions and experiences that I lived. despite forming my reality for a significant period of time, my adventure and the characters I had the fortune of meeting along the way seem far from me. this makes sense, considering the physical distance and increasing time between myself and these people and places and precious memories that meant so much to me.

I haven’t cried about this for a very long time, though I still dream of Lewes and the world away from home, and of course the people. I cherish the photos through which I am able to revisit memories, many of which I forget existed until seeing a smile or view or article of clothing pictured on somebody I hugged, whom I still hold close in my mind and heart, despite the greediness of time - who continues to take.

a lack of direction and drive. willpower is foreign to me right now. but I remind myself the legitimacy of my feelings and the need to allow my nostalgia for the world that was. thinking of the past brings me joy right now, which I cannot take for granted. << x 

six months

Lewes was last seen by my own eyes six months ago today. the world I lived in essentially closed its doors with the handing over of keys, packing of bags and departure of trains. not a day goes by without my missing this world and the people that brought it to life for me. this period has left a mark on my mind and heart, so much so that each day and night I momentarily wish for that sacred time again. one more day? or a week? or would such wishing lead to my seeking for another month, year, inevitably leading to the ridiculous desire for an eternity of looped time, living within the time capsule of our semester at the grand hotel.

I miss and wish for time and entertain the fantasy, relived through precious pictures of precious people whom I hold in my heart each day. I do not forget and I do not take for granted just how lucky I have been. and I continue to remain hopeful for the possibility of my seeing them again someday.

time continues to take. I continue to wish for more, remembering what I had and constantly forcing myself to acknowledge that this cannot be taken away from me. << x