Finding a spot where I can become a “regular” has been delightful. I see the same people, we might nod or just silently acknowledge. What I order varies little, yet they do not assume, which I appreciate. The floor is slightly unkempt, flecks of croissant strewn around. Patrons drift in for bread and cheese and occasionally lounge around with coffee and newspaper; I didn’t know people still read them.
I sit for an hour or two if I can peel away that long from work and leave a minute or two before they close at 2pm.
The journey from one place in time to another at the same place was a stark contrast. From freezing winters turning into vibrant summers to washing away in pouring rain, it has all turned into a slow traverse through mild winters and hot summers.
Perhaps it says more about how I have changed, for we see the world through the lens of who we are. And who I am has changed, for I find myself growing calmer, more reflective, and more accepting of myself, others, and the world around me, though the world seemingly has grown louder.
And yet, summer is finally here. After two long months of waiting, I finally got the bike back from the bike shop, which drove me to step out in the beautiful evening weather to my favourite spot. What better way to capture the quiet contemplation of change than black-and-white pictures? Here are some that I took today
While I find that time passes quickly, this summer took its sweet time to arrive, or perhaps it was the varied experiences that added up, slowing down my perception of time.
How I experience time, changing seasons, and the city’s vibe has dramatically changed. The winters felt mild, for I was always home in comfortable clothes (and hello, climate change); Outdoors felt less crowded, for I am always home. What has stayed the same is how the city glimmers in the golden hour – haze lit up, trees and foilage backlit, and sharp shadows casting this ethereal feel indescribable in words.
This particular favourite spot near my home evoked the feeling of watching the Gladiator movie’s opening scene, where Russel Crowe walks through a field, brushing his hand against the crops.
I paused briefly and decided to get to the other side via the bridge nearby. As I climbed down to the other side of the bank, I spotted a lone skateboarder lost in an endless dance of perseverance, of trial, error, and fun.
The sun began to sink further, leaving everything aglow. Streaks of light shone through the leaves forming sharp shadows.
Am I seeing everything through a film camera? Or is this for real? My mind wondered. The surreality was unbelievable.
I sprinted up the nesciobrug to slowly orient myself homeward
Every single time I am atop here, I feel small. I am just another human in one small corner of the world, calling this place home, a place far far away from a home lost in time.
I momentarily paused at a beach nearby, lost watching a mother-son duo playing frisbee with their dog darting joyfully in between. I was filled with complex happiness, witnessing their joy and love, yet tasting the bittersweet sting of my own grief, a sorrow I know will forever linger
I took a self-portrait in shadow to mark this moment in time and place and headed back home.
