I'm staring at the line up of pills that I've been prescribed, listening to clock ticking in the hallway, the washing machine in the utility, the traffic on the Triangle.
Right now I'm thinking about cancelling it all. My current contracts, future contracts, my apartment tenancy, flights to Berlin, various social networking websites, this website, licences, utility bills, enrolments, memberships, flights to London, Brisbane, Paris.
And in my head this summer played out completely differently to what it has. A minute hand ticks over to three pm, a cathedral bell chimes somewhere in the city and the bright sun is tinted by Wayfarers. A girl is drinking Cider from a bottle, whilst the guys throw a Rugby Ball around the green. A train is pulling into Lime Street Station. People are letting, subletting houses, rooms, weekends in various cities over the country. A young girl skips past. Birds fly in the flared sky. The waves crash on a familiar beach. A Car is stuck between the dunes of another. The familiar smell of country side, of trees, the common.
And yet none of this has happened. Nothing.