eutony
“You must get an education. You must go to school, and you must learn to protect yourself. And you must learn to protect yourself with the pen, and not the gun.”
Questions I am quietly sitting with as I sip my morning coffee.
What is at the bottom of my well?
Why did I dig the well in the first place?
Is this an excavation or an escape?
Every morning I wake up to the whirring fan with one missing earplug. The left ear always slithers out in the night after 3 AM. I know the time because I wake each morning when the veil is thinnest, between 2-4 AM. It's also the hottest and most humid in my room.
There are no windows in my room. I failed to observe the lack of apertures when I booked my accommodation on Airbnb.
I am always learning!
So the earplug sneaks out, and I wake up to the wooden fan pumping overhead. I am grateful that it doesn't creak like the bed. Every time I roll to my side, the bed creaks and sways. The earplugs blot out the disruption until they don't.
During my first morning wake-up, I check my correspondence, use the toilet, and return to rest until my alarm goes off at 5:30 AM.
Am I boring you with tedious details? They delight me. I rejoice in the tedious rituals of my day, especially since it's taken me so long to craft a new routine.
I am displaced without habitual interaction.
I dress and prep my bag for the day on my second-morning wake-up. I leave the apartment by the narrow, dark stairwell. The banisters are loose, so don’t lean too hard. The metal door never closes on its own- it gets stuck halfway. Like my approach to dating, never sealing the deal. Pull the door shut, unfold the bike, and roll down the hill. My hands usually a bit dusty from the tires.
The ride in the waking hours feels like slipping off a wet jacket; the release is exquisite.
Desolate streets. Lavender sky. Breeze on my face… legs barely moving.
Is the point of recording our reconciliations to reveal our relationship to the world?
Photo source.
