On being in-between things

​It’s been a crazy few weeks guys. I got my visa for Australia in late January and I’ll be moving there at the end of this month; so everything has been a whirlwind trying to get things ready. Of course, I wanted to document everything, write something interesting about how I felt etc, etc, but I couldn’t seem to muster anything worth reading. And I’m not even sure this meets that quota, but we’ll see.

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When sides align

I saw a guy last night on the tube, solving and then resetting a Rubik’s Cube, over and over again. It took him about 30 seconds to solve before he mixed the squares up and started over. He never looked at the cube for longer than a few seconds, and it seemed that the task had merely become one of dexterity practice. I watched him from the other side of the carriage and thought “huh.” I had seen two other men doing the exact same thing in the last month, on the tube, late at night. Is that weird, does it mean something, or both?

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Lots of little things

Sometimes the week just kind of disappears, doesn’t it? I’ve been trying to focus on/ remember the little things that make me happy throughout the week; the things that seem inconsequential but when I look more closely at them, I realise that they helped me survive the week. However, my memory is not what it once was, so I must dig deep to pull out some positive treasure.

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Bracing for the cold

Midnight, or 12.04am to be exact. The Piccadilly line is taking an age, and there are people scattered on the platform. I’m exhausted, in the way that’s starting to feel more and more like London. I wonder what I’m doing out here, at night alone, doing a mediocre impression of a mole. Bruno Mars tells me to raise my pinky in the air but only if I’m a player. I am not.

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The shark

“Home is where the heart is.”

I have always struggled with this phrase. It sounds simple enough but actually, I’m not sure it means anything more than “Home is where you like to sleep”, or “Home is where the person you like, likes to sleep”; but that sounds a bit like the mantra of a stalker, so maybe it’s not quite as simple as that.

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