thirty-one weeks gone.

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I went for a walk today that closely mirrored a walk I took in September, just a few days after walking out of the airport to a raining, grey city. I don’t know how long it took- how many weeks and months and years, probably, before I managed to get myself on that plane. My mom came into the airport with me and waited until they weighed my bags. I was wearing a white lace dress, black velvet leggings. I’d just come back from my best friend’s wedding, I’d just met S, I’d just finished packing that morning in a final burst of panicked I need this, I need this, I can’t believe I almost forgot this. I was, purportedly, ready, although that  would evolve and change very quickly in the first few days I couldn’t sleep.

And then, in October, Jamaica. My brother’s wedding. A week of heat and sun and fuzzy facetime calls and late night dances and lizards littering every path.

Then California, and California again, and finally here for less than two weeks. Just two more weeks and then a new set of situations, a new set of places.

Part of me wants to say it felt like a lifetime, it felt like an eternity, it feels like it will never, ever end.

The other part of me: it was fleeting. It was a minute or two of change. It was just a flash and then it was over.

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photographs taken in September with a Canon 60D. 

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2 thoughts on “thirty-one weeks gone.

  1. I just wanted to say that your photos are absolutely lovely. I lived in Scotland for a while and have been missing it lately so I’ve really been enjoying your posts. Seeing your photo of the Crags reminded me of another place with a view. If you get the chance, and haven’t already been, take the 41 bus down towards King’s Buildings and climb up past the Royal Observatory to the top of Blackford Hill. The views of Arthur’s Seat are unmatched.

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