| Make This Motion Count |

three months

in two minutes

are hard to summarise
but i do try, dear friends, i

try to write and text and facebook poke

but in three months
who i was is gone
like Ed Bond said
do you know who Edward Bond is?
do I know the songs you now sing?

im doomed forever to be distanced to one or another person
and to have to ask you to repeat your stories because
the last time I heard this December story was in February and now we are in July, and I am blind and forgetful

there is no time and there is no one to blame

but it is hard: the nostalgia rises like bile and i wonder how to keep it together
i am a bad juggler

and no, no, not all BA students go to varsity a few times a week and chill out for the rest of the time.

The Drama Department locks me into its tall white columns, daring me to be understood outside of its arms, daring me to make sense of this nomadic life without constantly referring to the Department this and the Drama that.

Inevitably, who I am, cannot be grasped anymore, without an understanding of the impact that this Theatre has had on me.

and in two minutes
that is all
very difficult
to synthesise.

/end of nostalgic post
/end of awesome and heartbreaking day with friends
/beginning of long sleep probably jiggled by dreams of unkept promises and endless pursuits

tomorrow, i work me tits off. research project work mode ENGAGE.


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