23rd july
I watch the city grow beneath my tiny feet,
the wheels of the plane skim the rooftops,
and I am dragged down,
with gravity.
The sun hasn't risen yet,
it is just a sprawl of streetlights and cars,
paving its way in the early morning,
there is a chill in the air,
and I am in transit.
Hours later I lie on a wooden parquet mezzanine,
whispering into the phone so as not to wake the slumbering and disgruntled security guards.
I am cold and regret not stealing a blanket from the aeroplane.
I receive a notification that Boris Johnson has won prime minister leadership,
I start to cry.
26th july
I stand tall above everyone on the women and children carriage. No one else is listening to music, or nervously checking their phone to check which stop is next.
A lady is asleep, her head lightly taps the window as the train bends its path through the underground. I wonder when I will understand people's questions, and be able to provide a coherent reply rather than an apology. I am finding my feet but it's hard when a language isn't yours.
All the streets still look the same and I don't know what I'm looking for.
27th july
I try to sip the strange brew of Bloody Mary/beer that I ordered but I feel like I'm drinking blood. I try to focus on the fight in front of me but it just seems like a series of disconnected gestures and noises, along with a crowd that I also don't understand.
I am sitting in the cathedral. I don't understand what's going on and I'm afraid my obvious lack of awareness will reveal my identity as an imposter in this religious space. People stand up and sit down, exchange 'la paz consigo', kneel to pray. No es mi lengua, no es mi idioma.
2nd august
rub my eyes with chilli hands,
my mouth stings,
I don't belong here,
and my senses tell me everyday.
9th august
I must depicher this code. I am one step behind everyone else, but what if I fall back further?
What if i lose touch with reality?
What if i'm heading in the wrong direction? I am so scared of being alone, of living in a metropolis by myself, to which i don't belong.
I can constantly hear noises, but they are not for me.
Living in a big city can be isolating.
The people, the sounds, the traffic, only serves to remind me that I am alone here.
I am mute,
and the city would not know if I disappeared.
I can hear the doorbells, the voices, the conversations in other houses, it is all so compact that I feel as if my life is overlapping with the borders of the strangers who are my neighbours.
I can hear planes overhead, every few minutes.
I am static within this chaos.
I am sedentary within the stream of life that is passing me by.
18th august
We walk home through the empty streets,
it is beautiful and quiet,
the city is never silent but this feels as close to silence as it will ever get,
there is no traffic so we walk in the road,
through the wide streets which are lined with trees,
it feels infinite and I feel as if I could plant myself here and grow and grow,
I want to be one with the city,
I want to know it and speak it.
I watch the city grow beneath my tiny feet,
the wheels of the plane skim the rooftops,
and I am dragged down,
with gravity.
The sun hasn't risen yet,
it is just a sprawl of streetlights and cars,
paving its way in the early morning,
there is a chill in the air,
and I am in transit.
Hours later I lie on a wooden parquet mezzanine,
whispering into the phone so as not to wake the slumbering and disgruntled security guards.
I am cold and regret not stealing a blanket from the aeroplane.
I receive a notification that Boris Johnson has won prime minister leadership,
I start to cry.
26th july
I stand tall above everyone on the women and children carriage. No one else is listening to music, or nervously checking their phone to check which stop is next.
A lady is asleep, her head lightly taps the window as the train bends its path through the underground. I wonder when I will understand people's questions, and be able to provide a coherent reply rather than an apology. I am finding my feet but it's hard when a language isn't yours.
All the streets still look the same and I don't know what I'm looking for.
27th july
I try to sip the strange brew of Bloody Mary/beer that I ordered but I feel like I'm drinking blood. I try to focus on the fight in front of me but it just seems like a series of disconnected gestures and noises, along with a crowd that I also don't understand.
I am sitting in the cathedral. I don't understand what's going on and I'm afraid my obvious lack of awareness will reveal my identity as an imposter in this religious space. People stand up and sit down, exchange 'la paz consigo', kneel to pray. No es mi lengua, no es mi idioma.
2nd august
rub my eyes with chilli hands,
my mouth stings,
I don't belong here,
and my senses tell me everyday.
9th august
I must depicher this code. I am one step behind everyone else, but what if I fall back further?
What if i lose touch with reality?
What if i'm heading in the wrong direction? I am so scared of being alone, of living in a metropolis by myself, to which i don't belong.
I can constantly hear noises, but they are not for me.
Living in a big city can be isolating.
The people, the sounds, the traffic, only serves to remind me that I am alone here.
I am mute,
and the city would not know if I disappeared.
I can hear the doorbells, the voices, the conversations in other houses, it is all so compact that I feel as if my life is overlapping with the borders of the strangers who are my neighbours.
I can hear planes overhead, every few minutes.
I am static within this chaos.
I am sedentary within the stream of life that is passing me by.
18th august
We walk home through the empty streets,
it is beautiful and quiet,
the city is never silent but this feels as close to silence as it will ever get,
there is no traffic so we walk in the road,
through the wide streets which are lined with trees,
it feels infinite and I feel as if I could plant myself here and grow and grow,
I want to be one with the city,
I want to know it and speak it.
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