shrugging off the layers

 It has become a near daily refrain now – alongside the panic and fear and too-oft returning into the same cycle of abandonment and blame, alongside the unexpected unravelling – a nascent wondering as to whether what lies ahead may look a lot less structured than I would have dared believe possible, and that that is okay.

There is a curious freedom I am experiencing from shrugging off the old layers – coats and scarves and jumpers and gloves – which don’t fit anymore. It’s been a good two or more years in the making of feeling the rough itch of the wool, the uncomfortable heat rising in my body, sweat forming beneath everything I have layered on myself for my safety, for my identity.

I am always afraid of being too cold. Continue reading

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on autumn and brueggemann: part 2

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Continuing with the tree-theme, this morning I got into work early. Yesterday had gone pretty disastrously so it was with a distinct ‘eurgh’ that I stepped out into the cold to unlock my bike and cycle in. It was only when I rolled out of the drive that I saw it. Pink, orange, deep blues, shades of grey, gold… A blaze of glory, filling the sky. I let out an audible noise and stopped for a minute, feeling it warm me up from inside. I rode towards it all the way into central London, watching the colours shift as time slipped by. Continue reading