This summer is different to the one before. And, I hope, to the one that will follow.
It is preceded by a heartbreak, a graduation and a few farewells to very dear friends. And it somehow leaves me floundering.
Twenty-twelve has been soundless, almost. I have lost the words in which to navigate it, to rationalise or to understand. I almost, at once, lost a love of words. But somehow I finished that degree I, for so long, struggled with through love. And somehow I managed to land a little work and a new college course and a few, unlikely friends.
But right now, I want to challenge it, this feeling of sorrow and sadness: turn it into something useful, and brave.
