# 71 || Sleep. Wake. Escape. !1

(early May 2016)
“I don’t know why I only ever seem to write (here) after take-offs and landings. Am I only inspired by unfamiliarity (which, as of late isn’t even that unfamiliar anymore #creatureofhabit) and a change of scenery? Though now, je vous promets, I have no imminent brief escapes scheduled but I do want to write here more often so reality will just have to do for now.

Mid-year resolutions are coming up, and I realise I must have lots of apparent “favourite-times-of-the-year” but this time of the year is definitely one of them. L’automne, in every shade of sunrise and sunset, is the true time for transformation and self-improvement. I don’t hate winter and never have, but it is a little harder to be happy when the sky is crying every other day. 

So, in the spirit of May, and all its possibility, I pinky swear to write here more often and take the time each week to devote a day to nourish my soul. Maybe one day I’ll multiply that day to become everyday but for now it can begin with roadtrips, afternoons (or mornings) in cafes, French lessons, working on my novel, yoga, cleaning out my wardrobe, re-arranging my room, using a whole roll of film, watching a movie, writing emails to everyone I’m thinking of, etc, etc, etc.       

Once upon a summertime I remember buying ice-cream from Somewhere and sharing it with three faceless friends on the sofa, watching the ‘Before’ trilogy. I don’t know what happened at the end but I think there was still sand between my toes from that day or the day before and we probably got takeaway from the Vietnamese place a few blocks down. I know we were happy that day and that happiness probably lingered on until the sun went to sleep. Do you ever remember fragments of memories that feel like dreams but you’re sure that they’re real and they actually happened? I remember your hands in my hair for the shortest second and I think I remember your laugh but I might just be making it up. Can you fabricate an echoic memory? If I close my eyes, I can hear it still. I can see your eyes crinkle up like a paper fan and I can see your crooked teeth but the more I try to play it on repeat, it becomes a silent memory. Once upon a wintertime I remember walking my bike to the corner of an intersection and waiting on a stone statue for her to come meet me. I don’t remember what day it was or what she was wearing or even what we talked about but it was one of the saddest nights of my life. The strange thing is, it was just the beginning of a series of sorrow-filled souvenirs engraved in the caverns of my mind. Maybe it’s the weather lately. Or maybe it’s the time of year. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m falling down the rabbit hole again and the last time I tripped in the forest and lost both my balance and mind, it was you and it was all my fault. Once upon a springtime I remember putting on a dress for the first time in months and sitting under the peach tree but at that time, I didn’t know it was a peach tree. For a few weeks, all I could see were flowers and it was the best few weeks of the year. I was wearing dusty Doc Martens and it was a Saturday night but I didn’t feel like being in anyone’s company but I did feel more like myself than I had in a long time. The only autumn I ever really remember was the one where I smoked my first cigarette and one day the daylight lasted for an eternity and the next day I bought gloves and didn’t take them off for months. My favourite colour was yellow for a week or two and for the most consecutive days in my life I felt like I belonged Somewhere.

The Buddhists say if you meet somebody and 
your heart pounds, your hands shake, your 
knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you
 meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm. No
 anxiety, no agitation. 

~ Monica Drake

sofia coppola-coloured memories on repeat maintenant (in some kind of chronological order):
-  yesterday عيد مبارك
- last friday night (mine, not katy perry’s)
- that incomplete night tangled up in his sheets with the saddest kiss i can remember
- every great hug ever 
- wine & fries & cigarettes every other day
- the balcony on simpson street
- all the times i thought i was so sad i could die
- all the times i forgot what it was like to be sad

+ more

Afifa x