my dearest raher,
few times of the year make me miss you more than those days where it gets dark at what feels like midday, and the cold winds blow one directly back inside, should one boldly attempt to leave the house to buy more mini-marshmallows for innumerable hot chocolates.
i have finally returned. fo’ realz. i’m actually back. and it feels as though i’m experiencing the post-graduation panic most of my fellow graduates (can you believe i actually graduated) were feeling half a year ago, when i decided to postpone real life by travelling the world. it’s scary. and overwhelming. and daunting. and i still feel as though there is no way things could actually turn out all right. but then again, i have always had melodramatic tendencies, and maybe i should give myself a couple of months at least before i draw hasty conclusions.
strike a pose
other than the constant state of dread i find myself in these days, there isn’t a lot i haven’t told you about. it’s been great seeing everyone at graduation, many people i hadn’t seen since we left uni, but it also served as a painful reminder that we probably won’t see all too much of each other in the years to come, despite mutual efforts and promises uttered during emotional goodbyes (sheesh, i truly am a downer today, aren’t i). nevertheless, there was a lot of catching up and “how have you been”s and long overdue embraces. not too sad of an occasion overall. i also got back to rehearsing with james’ band, and we already played at our uni’s open day and have plenty of gigs lined up. you should come see us play at some point. i have been spending some time with marco as well (obviously), which was and still is much needed, including an especially lovely dinner preparation session, where we danced around the kitchen and i threw on some christmas tunes (it’s november. i’ve waited long enough) and imagined us in matching christmas jumpers waiting for the families to arrive. a girl can dream.
el libro: halfway through the book (and month), i am still enjoying our november read. it’s interesting not to know anything, or barely anything, about our narrator, although i sometimes find it hard to tell whether he imagines it all, or whether the lady’s story is told to us by an omniscient overseer. ultimately, it doesn’t really matter, though. i am invested in york’s case and curious about the white-haired boy’s fate and generally very much into it, sometimes finding myself reading certain lines again, as they are so beautiful, they need to be savoured and honoured.
i hope you’re warm and i miss you.