Saturday, 26 November 2011


Time here is different than time at home. Here, it is evasive, it's strangely irrelevant and it's almost frustrating sometimes. It seems to go right over my head. The more time I spend here, the less time I feel I have been here. Does that make sense? I can close my eyes and see separate moments - ones that changes my life and ones that didn't - and I can close my eyes and see a blur of my own realities.
I think that life is a bit like soup. Moments are like the different ingredients, each tasty in their own right and usually nutritious. When you immerse them in water, and add a little seasoning, their flavours begin to blend. The longer you let it stew, the more the ingredients fuse together. Soon, while you remember what you put in, you can't necessarily taste the ingredients in the same way that you originally could. Their flavours combine, and turn into soup. Everything is still separately tasty and nutritious, but this....
This soup is delicious.

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