Sigh. No really I'm actually sighing. I don't want to write this. Because then it's going to mean that it's over. And I mean that in multifarious ways. Europe is over. Backpacking is over. Copenhagen (euphemistic use of the word) is over.
Actually, I'm going to be incredibly vague on this one. Because anyone who has been reading between the lines knows what's been going on in Denmark; and anyone who has seen or heard a Georgia rant about this subject knows TOO MUCH of what's been going on in Denmark. And also because I'm gonna draw the line between public and private here. If everyone knows everything, then the world looses its mysticism. Life shouldn't be celebrated by the things that we know, but by the things that we don't yet know.
So essentially this is what happened.
I went back to Copenhagen. To live with Nicolas.
Lottie and the Betts-Dean crew family we going to be there too, so all the less need to justify my return I guess! And I couldn't have envisaged another way to spend my last week and a half in Europe. I may not have been partying in Berlin, or sunbathing in Croatia, or gigging in Budapest, or getting lost in Glasgow. But I was surrounded by people I love.
And one that I may never see again.
And I'm sure that this will all come up again in other forms over the next two months. But I don't want to explicitly state the obvious right now! I'm quite aware that I'm an emotional writer, and I put a little bit of me into everything that I pen (or type in this case). People seem to be able to tell when I'm down, even if I don't mention the shitty times. People seem to be able to tell when I'm bursting with excitement over something, even if I think that I'm being pretty blase about it. So maybe you can all sense what I'm feeling right now.
No more words needed.
...
SO!!! Subject change!!!
This is my last post on the old times. A stage in my life has come to an end, and I'm sorry that it must happen so abruptly. It felt pretty abrupt to me too! One moment I was sobbing, alone in a foreign airport terminal; and then 24 hours later I was in a cab, driving up 5th Avenue, listening to Death Cab For Cutie's Marching Bands of Manhattan. And crying some more. But for different reasons this time. This time for excitement. This time for fear. This time for life.
And if I was crying
it was for freedom
from myself
and from the land
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2 comments:
hi honey - my first trip into blogland!
waiting at melb airport for a flight to china.
loving all your news - sooo much to read - on and between the lines.xxx
Very nicely said mother :)
Daily New York updates from now on. They'll be less whale than update as well.
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