It's been almost three years, so what brings me here today?
Rain, confused panic and Kafka.
When the questions inside me well up and overflow, I decide to wear socks, have a hot beverage and read in a place with comfortable seating, where there's no-one I must say hello to. Today I decided to read Franz Kafka's love letters to Felice Bauer while sipping on the cheapest cup of tea on the menu at a Cafe Coffee Day. It was a pleasant change from my house, with no electricity and the remnants of some painful memories too fresh, still oozing.
I can't say the chai and samosa didn't have a role to play, but in some way, reading Kafka's innermost feelings put to paper, his fears and eccentricities, they calmed my panicked state of mind. I felt less alone. His 1912 correspondence almost resembles modern day long distance relationships. The painfully honest accounts of anxiety, the bold and yet tactical offers to carry the relationship above the realm of friendship- they all seem a bit familiar.
But anyway, this blog is not about Kafka (I can hardly be qualified enough to write that just as yet, I haven't even gotten to The Trial).
This blog is about me.
And on this particular day, the rain and confused panic had thrown me onto the streets, unsure of where to go. It's a relatively new city, and armed with a book, bottle of water and a yellow raincoat, I walked with purpose hoping to find my cozy coffee spot. I had a lingering suspicion that the Cafe Coffee Day only existed in the lost ghost files of Google Maps, but I was pleasantly surprised. Reading and writing are some of the ways I make sense when I feel like there is chaos running through my mind. Thoughts, most negative, just floating around, kicking my tear ducts, hindering my lungs. I decided to read first because there was no electricity where I stay and my mind had decided the best way to deal would be to numbly shut off until I have some tea in my system.
It was a smart move.
I sat, I read, I ate, I drank. Every ten minutes that passed, my throat started to close up a little less. The thoughts, the constant stream of anxious questions were dammed to a trickle. They were questions about me, the why how and what of every little thing I did, would do or have done. Fear and impatience do not go well together, and if the number of times I checked my phone is any indication, I think I was at the rock bottom.
Rain, confused panic and Kafka.
When the questions inside me well up and overflow, I decide to wear socks, have a hot beverage and read in a place with comfortable seating, where there's no-one I must say hello to. Today I decided to read Franz Kafka's love letters to Felice Bauer while sipping on the cheapest cup of tea on the menu at a Cafe Coffee Day. It was a pleasant change from my house, with no electricity and the remnants of some painful memories too fresh, still oozing.
I can't say the chai and samosa didn't have a role to play, but in some way, reading Kafka's innermost feelings put to paper, his fears and eccentricities, they calmed my panicked state of mind. I felt less alone. His 1912 correspondence almost resembles modern day long distance relationships. The painfully honest accounts of anxiety, the bold and yet tactical offers to carry the relationship above the realm of friendship- they all seem a bit familiar.
But anyway, this blog is not about Kafka (I can hardly be qualified enough to write that just as yet, I haven't even gotten to The Trial).
This blog is about me.
And on this particular day, the rain and confused panic had thrown me onto the streets, unsure of where to go. It's a relatively new city, and armed with a book, bottle of water and a yellow raincoat, I walked with purpose hoping to find my cozy coffee spot. I had a lingering suspicion that the Cafe Coffee Day only existed in the lost ghost files of Google Maps, but I was pleasantly surprised. Reading and writing are some of the ways I make sense when I feel like there is chaos running through my mind. Thoughts, most negative, just floating around, kicking my tear ducts, hindering my lungs. I decided to read first because there was no electricity where I stay and my mind had decided the best way to deal would be to numbly shut off until I have some tea in my system.
It was a smart move.
I sat, I read, I ate, I drank. Every ten minutes that passed, my throat started to close up a little less. The thoughts, the constant stream of anxious questions were dammed to a trickle. They were questions about me, the why how and what of every little thing I did, would do or have done. Fear and impatience do not go well together, and if the number of times I checked my phone is any indication, I think I was at the rock bottom.
