The coconut oil is no longer liquid. There is no daylight at 8.30 pm.
I didn’t end up going to the store even though there is no food in the fridge. None. I’ll go tomorrow instead.
Peppermint tea and peppermint cookies. There were still three left.
I am trying to remember what I did today. There doesn’t seem to be much of it. Nothing specific or spectacular.
Twenty pages into international conflicts management. Two hundred to go. I am internally boycotting this course. I disagree with all of it.
I am hopeful but I am trying not to get my hopes up. We’ve come a long way.
I wonder whether Jericho will see me again. The story began in 9600 BC and I still haven’t learned my lesson.
Maybe something. Maybe nothing.
I am going to persist. The trick is to not give up. And somehow at some point, there will be a ripple of something fresh. Things will change and I will recognize the hard work before it. But I need to persist first. Keep growing. Learn patience.
I don’t mind being back in Prague. Not at all. But I know what I am missing here. Who. I know it and I can’t shake that away. There’d be no point in lying about it.
I am out of practice; out of breath. The words don’t come easily. I have to call for them, like for a scared stray cat. It used to be that it would all disappear. I’d turn away from myself. But instead, I just need to let it come to me and be quick about catching the right moment. A little bit like a perfectly chilled glass of wine. Tender gyoza for dinner, two nights in a row. Lebanese for lunch, again. I remain faithful to my habits even though I know there is so much more out there. I’ve made a list of neighborhoods in Prague I want to explore, revisit. It’s been far too long. I wish I loved this city the way I love all the others. The rain and gloom have slowed me down. The last few days, perhaps even weeks, have been quiet. Unusually so.
I just need to get through this month. It hasn’t been a good month so far and I feel guilty about that.
The guilt is the worst. The lack of will to do something. Anything.
I flip through my favorite books, not reading, just catching a line or two here and there.
I need to vacuum. Scrub the floor. Purge the closet space. The things I own are suffocating me.
There is an oleander in the middle of my bedroom now. We are from the same region and almost the same age. Isn’t that a weird thing to say about a plant?
I couldn’t sleep at 2 AM the other night. I stood up on the bed, feeling the extra height. I wondered what was going on in the other apartments. I practiced yoga for half an hour. Keeping myself inversed and feeling a crack in my right hip. It happens more often now. Blood rushed through my body, like life.
The only consolation about falling asleep at almost four in the morning is that light won’t come back for another few hours.
I bought a packet of sliced bread and cream cheese for dinner. Decided not to feel guilty about it.
Most of the time, I wish I lived somewhere else. Which means I am singlehandedly disrespecting Prague. For saving my life. Guilt. But cities no longer dictate how I feel.
I came to the realization that I particularly dislike turquoise hues. I started an abstract experiment color study in hopes I’ll learn to like it. It seems so unnatural.
I need to make time for my travel journal and watercolor practice.