If only in my dreams

It’s very rare to be in a moment and be able to look at it from the outside and say, I’m going to remember this for the rest of my life. Most of the time, the things we remember aren’t really what we expect: they are the little memories, the split seconds in time, that have somehow snagged on the thorns of our minds and stayed there, encapsulated forever. In the river that courses through our heads they’ve been caught by the odd rock jutting out and they’ve floated in the eddies off to the side. You never really know what’s going to stay, and what will drift on past. But then you look back and you think, yes, I remember that. Continue reading


What is in a home?

In the kitchen I can hear my roommates laughing over something. Christmas music in the background. My clothes are strewn all over the bed and the clothes rack, a half-empty jar of Nutella and a spoon have taken up permanent residence on the mantlepiece; tickets, receipts, papers, passport, a jar of moisturizer, a spool of thread lie inches thick across the desk. A pile of yet-to-be-read books is perched precariously next to my bed. A cup with the abandoned dredges of hot chocolate in it sits at my elbow.

What I am trying to say by showing you these things is, I am entrenched here. Leaving the place that has been home for as long as you can remember really makes you think about these things: these are the particles that make up a life. These are the tell-tale signs of living – not travelling, not a nomad, just living and being in a place. That’s why I went on exchange for a year: I wanted to truly live in another city, I didn’t want to just visit. I have been in Grenoble for a while, and I’ll be here for a while yet. This is my home now. I have felt the heat of summer sun in my bones in this room and I will taste the tang of winter sunshine on my tongue here too. I’ve watched the mountains sink into golden glowing sunsets, I have seen them coated in the first November snows, I will watch them shake themselves loose again come springtime and dance, dance with a freshness that stretches from their rocky roots to the tips of their new budding leaves. I am learning another city’s heartbeat. I am swaying to another city’s rhythm. Continue reading