Somehow we have come back home; or at least I have - your home is the home of my childhood, but I have waded through the intervening years which you are now dropped into like a stone. There are vistas both indoors and outdoors which you will not see anymore, most notably the great high ceilings of warehouse markets now turned into respectable shopping malls, or the sight of roads which go for improbable stretches without flanking buildings. (At least you were prescient about the distance being improbable.)
Love, this place is no longer really your home; perhaps this place is no longer really our home now. Still I know its roads and turnings better than you do - in a place like this memory is at best a vague guide - and I know too the places you want to see which are still around. Name me a place. If I bring you there then there is still something worth seeing. I know you are still not the sort who goes for crowds; would you trust me to guide you around?
If you do choose to go around alone, of course, I will ask nothing of your itinerary. But neither can I give you the schematics of my route. Letting you know too much of where I am going will force me to lose my way.
4 comments:
i am ambivalent about this piece. it deviates from your usual style (does it? ) which i like -- a very straightlaced, direct, matter of fact tone. its more romantic, but there's a certain anonymity in the romanticness, which makes me feel ambivalent about it. does this make sense?
dawn
hey we got linked from nurul's new blog: nowimjustashotinthedark.blogspot.com
lets put up a bar of links (i still cannot stand the html, it's rubbish html)
oh dear nurul's new blog! goodness let's home this becomes a network.
also i don't really know about the tone of this either... i just feel there's always a contrast between someone who's been present all the time and someone who's been absent for a long while even regarding things they are both familiar with. it's not just place, but people too. and now i sound obscurantist, goodness.
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