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This Could Be The Last Time.
Jun. 7th, 2012 04:13 pmHere's the thing about moving. Well, two things. Maybe three.
First is that I become aware of the last things I am doing: the last time I'm in this shop, the last time I'm walking this route, the last time I'm seeing these people.
It reminds me too of things I meant to do but didn't - exploring flower markets, for instance, or walking particular parts of the city: I spent part of today in an area of Hackney I hadn't been to before, and I wished I had. There's a lot of London to explore. I've done a lot, but the list of places I haven't been to or things I haven't done is probably longer than the list of things I have.
The second thing is of course the list of firsts: knowing Edinburgh, I can imagine in some detail the concomitant first things. Where I would go to do this, specific shops, cafes, restaurants and pubs. (Where to watch the football?) This makes it quite exciting. (It is exciting anyway, of course.)
The third thing is the strange way moving makes one examine one's life. A pile of boxes. Shelf after shelf of books, each with specific memories attached. A stack of objects. A hill of beans. And a cat, of course.
First is that I become aware of the last things I am doing: the last time I'm in this shop, the last time I'm walking this route, the last time I'm seeing these people.
It reminds me too of things I meant to do but didn't - exploring flower markets, for instance, or walking particular parts of the city: I spent part of today in an area of Hackney I hadn't been to before, and I wished I had. There's a lot of London to explore. I've done a lot, but the list of places I haven't been to or things I haven't done is probably longer than the list of things I have.
The second thing is of course the list of firsts: knowing Edinburgh, I can imagine in some detail the concomitant first things. Where I would go to do this, specific shops, cafes, restaurants and pubs. (Where to watch the football?) This makes it quite exciting. (It is exciting anyway, of course.)
The third thing is the strange way moving makes one examine one's life. A pile of boxes. Shelf after shelf of books, each with specific memories attached. A stack of objects. A hill of beans. And a cat, of course.