I'm squeezing time out of these lost last days and I have a little over a month to:
rescue my school work
take a bike trip weekend in Polandvisit a small town or two
savor friendships
go photo-taking
attend a concert at the philharmonie
see all of those great architecture pieces one simply must see
buy kitschgo to as many galleries as possible
savor friendships
go photo-taking
attend a concert at the philharmonie
see all of those great architecture pieces one simply must see
buy kitschgo to as many galleries as possible
THERE ISN'T ENOUGH TIME TO ENJOY IT.
THERE IS TOO MUCH TIME TO WAIT.
I keep having quick flashes of intense sensory memories that make me feel like I am in Kansas City or Lawrence. They make me feel as though, at least mentally, I am living two places at once.
SMELL: storm through a dusty window screen
SMELL: mattress cover stored under my bed
SOUND: cicadas
SMELL: mattress cover stored under my bed
SOUND: cicadas
TASTE: air on a drive past a prescribed burn
TASTE: clover honey and sourdough
Because when these things happen, things which are so place-specific, I can't ignore them. They say that smells conjure memory, but no one ever talks about the influence of memories on smell. Because when your brain actually re-creates a smell, it creates an irrational longing, and I can no longer passively keep tabs on what's going on back home. I'm struck for the first time since july with this feeling of being left out, of not knowing what's coming, of surely leaving an unmade bed behind me. This is the farthest north I've ever been for a summer solstice; the sun rises around 4:30 and sets around 21:30, but there just couldn't possibly be enough time in these long days for all of the things which clearly must be done.
Because when these things happen, things which are so place-specific, I can't ignore them. They say that smells conjure memory, but no one ever talks about the influence of memories on smell. Because when your brain actually re-creates a smell, it creates an irrational longing, and I can no longer passively keep tabs on what's going on back home. I'm struck for the first time since july with this feeling of being left out, of not knowing what's coming, of surely leaving an unmade bed behind me. This is the farthest north I've ever been for a summer solstice; the sun rises around 4:30 and sets around 21:30, but there just couldn't possibly be enough time in these long days for all of the things which clearly must be done.
I CANNOT AFFORD TO SPEND HOURS
LOST IN MY OWN INACCESSIBLE CITY.
There are drawings and friends to be made. It's like being on the regional train, except that after an hour of staring out the window, I get off right where I got on.
