24 oct, 2007
FARRER RD: WHERE THE GRASS SEEMS FAIRER
I keep trying to swallow my today but the pit in the throat keeps rising and falling and rising and falling. So I try to write it down but the words overwhelm me, so in my state of mixedemotions all I have to say is that the returning brought me close to tears.
Today I walk in the familiar road towards the familiar wall and familiar staircase, the same one I used to walk on years ago, but seems so long ago doesn’t it? Then I see familiar faces from varying grounds and it hits me - I still miss you. You - whom I ran away from in a bid to look for a better/different world. You - whom I felt stifled from because you were all I only knew. You - whom I got bored of after so many years. And I cannot believe it.
You look different now, your appearance has changed, slightly. Tinged with covered years gone by, layered almost, but your history is still beneath you. So many stories hidden in the underfolds of your skin. Why do you get to me so much?
Every building tells a story. Each pillar, each bench, each tile contains secrets of once-inhabitants. Your ground beneath you, the same one that I walked on in the different seasons/ages of my life. But I do not re-turn. I know the reality of reminiscing. So as I walk by you I walk quickly, stoically even, trying to ignore your slightly faded colour and cream staircase. But then the faces pop by every so often. Some I say hi to, and some I smile at familiarity. I look at the wall, and my organs burn. It is different when I’m back with you.
It is different when I’m home.
I keep trying to swallow my today but the pit in the throat keeps rising and falling and rising and falling. So I try to write it down but the words overwhelm me, so in my state of mixedemotions all I have to say is that the returning brought me close to tears.
Today I walk in the familiar road towards the familiar wall and familiar staircase, the same one I used to walk on years ago, but seems so long ago doesn’t it? Then I see familiar faces from varying grounds and it hits me - I still miss you. You - whom I ran away from in a bid to look for a better/different world. You - whom I felt stifled from because you were all I only knew. You - whom I got bored of after so many years. And I cannot believe it.
You look different now, your appearance has changed, slightly. Tinged with covered years gone by, layered almost, but your history is still beneath you. So many stories hidden in the underfolds of your skin. Why do you get to me so much?
Every building tells a story. Each pillar, each bench, each tile contains secrets of once-inhabitants. Your ground beneath you, the same one that I walked on in the different seasons/ages of my life. But I do not re-turn. I know the reality of reminiscing. So as I walk by you I walk quickly, stoically even, trying to ignore your slightly faded colour and cream staircase. But then the faces pop by every so often. Some I say hi to, and some I smile at familiarity. I look at the wall, and my organs burn. It is different when I’m back with you.
It is different when I’m home.