There was more life in the weeds

 

I don't usually get the feeling of nostalgia; maybe I grew up with the awareness of leaving my small town at some point, and that's why I haven't actually felt at home anywhere for the last three years. But this is okay — I mean, everything's in the right place as long as you keep enjoying the nomadism of the self. 

A small trip is a one-day-package emotion, and visiting Cornwall, then leaving it, was just a short summary of what I do feel, an epiphany of the real melancholy of departures. What I saw in myself is that it's more about the things you feel and taste, rather than the concrete objects standing in front of your eyes.

I've always been the weird one; almost nobody has seen me crying, as I'm usually the esprit d'escalier crier, I close the door with a smile and I might end up crying it out two months later.

The wind of the south, that peculiar British sunshine that makes everything looke just a bit more golden, the perfect Sunday morning feeling (when you don't have a hangover, of course); everything is lyrical and stunning and everything of it is a part of the nostalgic memories of my Italy, those that apparently had chosen to be hidden for a while — just so they could pop up at the right time, in the right place.

I managed to tear the one-day package and let them flow all together.

So I wondered—why haven't I ever written about my hometown? Landscapes, beaches and hills are there, and I just never realised it. It's always looked like my long-term, boring package, and I let it go. I wonder if I will ever be able to find the poetry in the everyday 'assessment' of 24 hours.

Or maybe it is different, maybe some places just have some lyrics that still need to be written in them. In their DNA. And some haven't. Or maybe, well, some people just have the poetry in themselves and are able to make pretty much everything out of it. 

And, while listening to those lines, I watched the sunset from my Megabus dirty window. I took my phone, I struggled with this website; I wanted to have something that could last a little longer.
Been there, done that.