Friday, June 02, 2006

There is a season/ Turn, turn.

New month. New city, new job. New places to live, to work. New keys on an old keyring.

New balconies to watch the rain from. New roads, casually scattered with new shops. New phone numbers. New places to call, identify yourself, and order takeaway from. New stray dogs.

New newspaper in the morning (which I think I'm going to change).

New mugs to sip too-hot/ too-milky/ too-sweet tea from. New bookmarks for frequently-visited sites on your new Internet Explorer menu bar. New keys on a keyboard that you will soon be all but blind to, in your haste to meet a deadline or craft a script or phrase a sentence just so. New log-ins, new passwords.

New one-ways (or perhaps they're old ones: in this city, it's quite impossible to tell). New time to set your morning alarm for. New libraries. New salon girls to correct when they file your nails too curved, or shampoo your hair too vigorously.

New people.

Whatever else may come, there is something to be said for this air of newness around me. If only it didn't feel so damn familiar.

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