awake, but not really
thinking in ~textures
awake, but not really.
a drainpipe leaks onto moss.
window cracked, cool air spills in,
breathing the curtain.
slow, sleepy rain for a slow, sleepy girl.
yesterday’s tea sits cold
in an ugly mug beside an unlit candle.
lined paper. unfinished notes.
cedar, vanilla, and damp earth.
a wet car turns down a wet road
in a screen of white noise.
wet people on wet bicycles,
the city waking up on a saturday.
i shut them out.
let visions of misty forests and ocean
roll me to face the other way.
maybe i could just stay here today.
drift elsewhere,
where the rain is loud, the world is quiet,
and i can feel you holding me.
asleep, but not really.
It’s been just over a week since I moved to Vancouver. I’ve been quiet on here cos quite frankly I haven’t felt like I had the bandwidth for producing much of anything. I think this last series of moves took it out of me a bit—thirteen times now in just over a year, of leaving and starting over just when places and people begin to feel familiar. I’ve loved it, and I stand by my choices. It’s just also taken its toll in other ways.
I had nowhere I needed to be this morning and it’s raining and I wanted to stay in bed. Thought I’d open up Substack and my Tumblr archives half-asleep and see what spilled out. Not sure about the words part, but it exists now, and at least the pictures are pretty.
I am, in fact, still in bed as I type this. At midday. A very rare occurrence, especially when I’m alone. I can hear my housemates chatting in the kitchen now and my tummy is grumbling, so this is where I leave you.
Time to emerge and get a mug of cacao into me. Find something fun to do on a rainy day in the city.
Warmest thoughts,
Leïla