Inwardly

In the shelter of my green umbrella, the wind carries a mist that gathers on my face. My toes are wet and from my ankle up towards my knees, my jeans slowly turn a shade darker than it originally was. I feel the moist on my skin, the tips of my fingers are cold to the touch. I held onto the “Play” button, wishing it could turn on at least and when I saw red on the battery life, I hope it would last longer than I could bear silence. On the train, it was very cold, a kind of freeze my burnt skin would have yearned for during the six days of camp. A cold that chills the blue seats, stings the skin and is now deemed undesired by the forlorn. My Ipod is still alive and I do not have to deal with otherwise. I placed the notebook on my laps, pen in one hand, phone in the other, and search for a day that has not been scribbled on. Instinctively, my fingers find a name from the list of people I have to meet up before the semester begins and texts the person. I am surprised the train is still at stations I thought it had passed. When I close my eyes, I think about the girl from Eating Air, a white blouse stained by purple ink, her purple flower speeding across the underpass. She carries an expression I cannot fathom, I feel like a teenager from that movie. When the loud noises from the arcade dies away, when a camp of loud cheering is over, I am in my room, my bed on the right, my laptop in front, my air-conditioner behind. In the room, there is one person, and I am suddenly not used to that. Every free, wakening day is a time to catch up with old friends, while securing new friendships. In the company of so many others, and in the rhythm of left-over silly games from camps, in days that follow where I am pre-occupied, I have forgotten how voids and emptiness can be soothing.