I believe in the temporal fragility of meaningful relationships. I've often wondered about the grant of incidental alignment. Like when we walk past each other everyday, you in your boots, me in my cocoon of embellished bitterness. We never meet, really. Him and her, eyes twinkling, hearts fluttering. It was not to be, not then, and it seems now, never. Poor timing; confounding distractions, they said. Then of two people, brought together at first by fleeting flirtation, snapped apart (and awake) by the pragmatic soberness of distance, and reconnected, 6 years on, by time's events. Still apart. Part written in the stars. Part orchestrated - I took the leap, then you, or perhaps...
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I'm learning to enjoy my own company again. Here, with book, juice, curious stares. Most days I bask in the energy of natural light. I'm happy, in case you're wondering. I've spent much of my perceptive years stumbling into milestones. Sometime last year I began to yearn for definite change - of the geographical, romantic, broadening sort. Someone said You're finally letting go of the control freak inside; I thought I'm finally letting go of trying to find that last reason.
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I'm starting to buy shoes again. Five pairs since I've been back. None sensible, mostly whimsical. I am myself again.
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River Cafe. I've found a place to satisfy pasta cravings. I've missed penne (sometimes linguine), tossed in extra virgin olive oil, garlic, fresh parsley, with a generous handful of fresh seafood and parmesan. This place does a seriously tasty version, well-priced too. Service isn't as attentive and personal as its sister-restaurant Broth, but I liked that it was nicely tucked away from traffic and crowd.