if i am ever to break my first bone or succumb to some final destination approved death by plummeting through a glass window, today will be that day.
on this shifty ladder.
over my disgust towards the current drapery.
… it’s got to go.
_ _ _
clearly, i am still settling into my new place in warm north london. well, the temperature hasn’t changed so much but the people i continue to meet are friendly to say the very least and stimulating, welcoming, and kind at their (presumable) best. i haven’t regretted resettling here once.
(thank god because the never ending luggage tube-transport runs nearly did me in.)
as soon as i plow through some flat (room) renovations, then all will truly be right with the world. well, not with the whole world, but with the little world that i am creating for myself at the moment.
i’ve always been a nester, despite having little faith in long term solutions. the day that i’m not decorating my space with someone else’s rubbish may actually be the day that i have lost my mind. so as long as i continue to scavenge sidewalks for pigeon feathers and discarded debris then i guess i won’t fret too much over my mental state.
as i risk my life on this ladder – to dislodge the unsightly curtains as well as prep the walls for a fresh coat of paint, i’ve mostly been listening to johnny flynn.
he just released an album after seven years of working on other creative projects, and these songs really seem to resonate with the entire process that has been my exhausting move across a big city, a second trip to morocco, some healthy financial strain, and now the rejuvenation of these worn walls.
“raising the dead” might as well be my mantra. the lyrics, the sound. it feels like starting over. it’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor with resolve as you glue the pieces of your life back together, or if it was never broken, then simply into a better version of the original.
the cover photo of this blog post is a pretty screenshot i captured from the music video.
and from the album’s sleeve…
‘sillion is the symbol of the point in a cycle where nothing is growing; the old crop is harvested, and the new question has barely been asked. the seeds are not yet sown. it is the fraction of a second at the end of exhalation and before we breathe in. perhaps that’s where we are now.’
_ _ _