Bookmark #851

I believe the first thing is looking. As long as you can see something, it exists. I look at the few birds who seem to have made a camp of the grass on my balcony and, in doing so, have made an absolute mess! The synthetic turf is now all but soiled and spoiled with the many instances of a bird having relieved itself. It is ridiculous—the amount of mess a little bit of comfort can create. This palace of one, and all the time spent in it these past three years—I see it all, and since I can see it, it has all happened. To say it has been a smooth journey would be a bit too liberal with life, but to claim it has been anything but a goddamn pleasure would be lying, too. All in all, I see these years for what they are: a slice of time.

In a rather lengthy letter sent to a friend last month, I dubbed these ‘the patio years’ after the many warm afternoons and evenings spent on the patio cafe at a ten-minute walk.

Time has acted on everything. The baristas are long gone, the selection of music has rotted, and the tables are always dusty, but I walked to it last evening. Night as it was, I felt the warmth of the several suns I had spent doing nothing there, and with it, the many walks I took under the bougainvillaeas, which sprouted and wilted as seasons changed. To think of it all, to look at these last months for what they are, has made me realise the change in my disposition, my want for yet another hour with my friends, my yearning for a handful of flawless days, my demand for perfection in everything.

What is it? Loss. What else?

It is hard already to say goodbye to people; it is impossible to say goodbye to a time. Realising this has kicked my senses back into me. I stand on this balcony today and tell myself I will be back here as I look at the town, the variegated green carpet of trees spread over the city, sprawling until you see the hills. And I know in my heart that when I do, it will not be the same. I will not be the same!

Perhaps I take solace in the fact that I found contentment in my heart for a little bit of time, a crumb of it. Until the humanity in me took over and told me there was more to look at and become.

For a little bit, I had peace.

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