The aftermath of change

There’s something I’ve been trying to articulate but have struggled to put to words. It has to do with a type of anticipation, a gurgling urgency, to do and to be and to see. A giddiness that leaves your head looking up rather than down at your feet, for the first time in a long while.

I am just starting to identify this feeling as the aftermath of change. I am looking both forwards and backwards, trying unconsciously to graft the two together.

I miss being a student. I miss being unceasingly curious and having that curiosity met with a curriculum and a teacher and a class. When all of that is suddenly gone, I find myself looking towards the city for reciprocation, for the city to guide me to places unseen, where the familiar sense of wonderment can once again bloom. 

But the city doesn’t respond, or it simply insists that there is nothing I can see that will surprise me. Because I’m not looking for a surprise. I’m looking for a plan, a route that I can take. 

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