I always find myself looking back onto what a year has been in its entirety, notwithstanding the moments that have rendered it difficult. A lifetime of education means not thinking of a year in its academic terms can be difficult – with 2018, this seemed, especially, to be the case. Yet at the same time, that very handful of months outlined by graduation, a strange sense of emptiness, too much free time, once that handful came to an end along with 2017, so did that same confusion linked to the way I would divide my years up. 2018 came into its own in the same way that I did – a year of Continue reading
When I was in the middle of exams last year, one of the things that I remember the most vividly is the countless hours spent aimlessly gazing at the tree outside my bedroom window. I used to have friends come over to my room, both of us under the illusion that somehow doubling the presence of people within a room would also double our concentration levels. I’ve never been good at idioms Continue reading
Look, today has been a Tuesday you couldn’t fix no matter what, and on Thursday I said I would make it a good one. I do this a lot. I plan things out in my mind and I will them to live up to expectations. Today was different, though, today I know where I went wrong and why Tuesday crumbled.
It started, I suppose, with the real mistake being the fact I spent the weekend packing for our journey, when I should have been reading Emilia Galotti, act 3, past its second scene. Continue reading
I have been you, you have borne me, and I have lived you, yet you tore me
still I have sought you on my knees… in the whooshing willows on the Thames Continue reading
It’s a century since Die Verwandlung , Kafka’s most famous novella detailing human angst and the pain that comes from impotence, narrated by a man turned into vermin, was published. I hear about Kafka constantly even having only read one of his works in this academic year – for he is in Oxford, in the research institute containing the first page of this work, that famous “Als Gregor Samsa sich eines Morgens aus unruhigen Träumen erwachte…” that we are not allowed to visit unless specialised in the life of this peculiar, fascinating man, Continue reading
Today, whilst packing up my room, a few Mr Sheen wipes and spraying shelves after I’d had lunch, I discovered a crumpled up copy of a submission I made a year ago to ISIS magazine, and had completely forgotten about. Given the ever-recurring theme of travel, roots, life changes, I thought I’d just leave it here. I’m still quite impressed at how long it sat on my shelves without ever making it to become scrap paper.
BA XXXX, Pisa, 2013