arriving in Lewes

it’s now been a year since I first arrived in Lewes. I’ve known that world for a whole lap around the sun, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about this. it all feels fresh. I still dream of that place often. I spend days and nights missing the people that made that crumbling hotel a sanctuary and home for me.

time is ruthless and takes all things eventually. I’m reluctantly realising this, and though I doubt I’ll ever come to terms with the fact that these stories and memories that mean so much now will inevitably vanish someday, I am working on appreciating how lucky I have been to hold such moments sacred in my heart and mind. I don’t know where the time has slipped - I feel as though I only arrived home from the adventure not long ago, though the world and family I found over there feels further away with each passing day.

I was nervous that afternoon I first stepped off the train into the sleepy bonfire town. after months of exploring Europe solo, I found the two minute trek up the hill to sign in at the hotel reception more daunting than anything I’d done in my life up til that point. part of me thought my spending the semester hidden away in my room would be an inevitability. the thought of being alone and completely independent was something I had braced myself for. I had no idea I’d meet a cast of dozens of people from across the globe I could trust with my life and hug and hug and hug.

I miss them dearly daily. but a year is a long time. I’m lucky they still take up space in my mind: the thought of forgetting scares me. my time in Lewes saw a spectrum of emotions pushing me in a scary range of directions, but I was always safe there in the company I found. I miss that company. waking up and knowing at any given moment I could be drinking tea and laughing with a handful of people for whom I’d give the world. friends who’d dance with me to the same songs on the jukebox in Lansdown each night, passing me sips of their ciders. brothers who’d shave my head or let me sleep on their bed as they pumped out last minute essays, blasting frank or oasis. sisters who’d cry with me and show me how to self care with face masks and smashed avocado on toast.

I miss the town and I miss my friends. I’m so far away, but my heart is there and with them. I’d love another movie night. or a laugh in the kitchen - some of my sweetest memories being as simple as running into Pamela or Christina there, laughing at and psychoanalysing the state of the social monstrosity that became of our cohort. I’d be back in a heartbeat if only I could.

I remain confused by time and the intersecting paths of our stories. I try to not let this confusion taint my appreciation of the luck with which I have been blessed. a year of knowing Lewes, my far reaching family and the grand hotel. I remain thankful for these gifts and hopeful that I will one day understand what it all means. << x

writing

I have a lot of unprocessed emotions from my experiences during the adventure. I started writing about the whole thing last week, and I’ve kept going. there’s so much still dormant in my mind. it clouds my vision and it’s therapeutic to indulge in the memories and emotions they invoke. I remain overwhelmed but grateful for my possession of words to pay tribute to my experiences and emotions and the people I shared them with.

nearly one year since moving to Lewes. I could not miss that life any more than I do right now.

spring

it’s September now, which means that spring is here in Australia. I missed Australian spring whilst in Europe, and didn’t hang around long enough for European spring, meaning this is my first spring since 2018. looking back, that spring feels a lifetime away from where I am now. the comings and going’s in my life and the experiences and places and people and emotions have felt monumental.

spring is my favourite season. the flowers come back and the cold eases off, with the heat never too much. a lot of natural growth in the garden. I’m lucky to be enjoying spring again, having had a great deal happen since last time. I spent today studying with a dear friend. whilst away, she was one of the things I missed most about home. due to our living an hour apart and other factors, the time we spend together is very infrequent, making time spent together all the more valuable. she remains an irreplaceable part of my life despite the barriers preventing our spending time together. it’s funny how now, as I miss loved ones from across the globe, I can recognise how irreplaceable people can be without our realising - until they are out of our reach and far away.

each day involves missing and I’m learning that this is not temporary but a part of my life now. I remember that I am not alone in missing people and places and feelings. I try to find reasons to pull me from one day into the next. << x

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.