things i miss # 2
it’s strange to walk into an apartment that was your home till a few hours ago and see an empty space
- I retook my driving theory test. I passed it, theoretically.
There’s something surprisingly soothing about walking over a bridge under which a train is speeding. Go figure.
- It’s not only that you don't hear honking in a city that’s usually dominated by it.
- It’s not only that the homeless can sleep on their benches without having to see how bypasses are trying to ignore them.
- It’s not only that the smells emerging from the garbage cans are more poignant—either because the trash was just collected or the opposite, it had all night to marinate.
- It’s not only that the fittest partygoers are trotting home and as you smile at them you can’t help but imagine what their nights were like.
- It’s not only that you don't see commuters spilling out of busses.
- It’s that these morning hours in which night turns into day are quiet, and they’re quiet in just the right way; there’s no white noise, the construction sites are on mute, and you can hear a bird or two sing.
- It’s not only that the city isn’t yet divided into shade and light.
- It's not only that the sea has a hyper-real quality to it, as if scripted especially for this time.
- It’s not only that fathers were sent down to the streets—on their right side a stroller with their half-asleep baby, on their left side a fully-awake Labrador, not too long ago still used as a chick-magnet.
- It's not only that there's no stress, no rushing and yelling in a place where that’s the national sport.
- It’s not only that there’s a breeze that in an hour from now, in the Mediterranean summer heat, will seem like nothing but a made-up memory of your body.