Uprooting

06. 10. 18

The everyday is composed of infinite small, repeatable actions- that invariably change with time, place and the person itself. I recently moved, shifted homes, and with it my everyday has shifted too. I filmed my surroundings. Familiar tasks, objects and actions seem so different, so foreign. I am unable to reconcile my way of being, of living with this unfamiliarity that engulfs me. This particular point in time feels so jarring- where the familiar is unfamiliar and the unfamiliar is well, unfamiliar.

09. 10. 18

Today, I spent the whole day roaming around the neighborhood. I still confuse the streets and the avenues, have no way to distinguish between corners and crossings. Have not started associating spaces with specific instances, memories, or emotions. The meaning-making has not begun. Yet.

These are scenes from the everyday 

Wildflowers blooming, untended, on a sidewalk 

A few feet away, rotting remains overflow from the split seams of a standard black garbage bag

Strange. A relatively unscathed ankle-length suede boot sits in the corner. Like an afterthought 

It would seem more at home at the dry cleaners’ a block away 

Or on the woman who gazes absently from the window of a cafe I have started frequenting

I walk, as Vienna plays

Still curious, hungry, my eyes search for things that are new

I spot- A pair of old, rugged boots in a bicycle cart

Tethered to a black iron fence

Worn- but not discarded

What's the story there?

It’s cold, I can almost imagine slipping my feet into the warm, moist interior

A few feet away twin dustbins sit side by side in the prettiest shade of mint

Similar to the one in the beautiful mural by the subway station

Now darkened by layers of soot and grime

Thought. What would my last walk through this neighborhood be like?

I feel the sharp stab of loss

Because even though this place is new

The emotion isn't

I have been through this before

And from experience, I know

Taking roots is never easy

But uprooting is much, much harder