Salt

   I feel sad here - the same kind of sad that I felt in my own country except the distractions are less, I have less access to things that bring me joy but the pay is actually livable. I suppose you can't always get what you want and in any case, everything takes time. Disliking the job means that I will need to find something else to latch onto for dear life and most of the activities - at least the ones involving people - that I had in the past are all but flourishing here. On occasions when I have been invited to social gatherings I have sat quiet, observing the people around me - they were alright but I hardly felt any incline of a connection and so I preferred to shut up.

  That's another thing that I noticed about me: I really did quieten down. I did not swallow my tongue, it is not the timidity of shyness and shame but the complete disconnection with the surroundings. Back home it was less easy to notice though I suspected it but here, in new surroundings where there's less noise coming in it's become more obvious to me that I have grown a preference to keep my mouth shut. 

  I like the balcony of the house. It does not have a stunning view but the area is not so packed with tall houses - in fact, it has less buildings in general and that leaves an abundance of sky there for me to observe at any time of the day. All I have to do is look out of the window. There are moments when I do exactly that and the expanse of it cleanses my insides. For a few moments I am brought back within my body and I am present and I almost feel hopeful, above the tiredness, above it all.

  And in those moments I remember of going to the sea and wanting to cry and join one type of salt water with the other but there were too many people and that usually brings questions. The hindrance of it did not stop the sea from lending its healing hand to me. As a kid whenever I went to the beach and into the water I would always feel spooked and yet would steal away moments away from others during which I would bring my mouth to the surface of the water and I would whisper my secrets and my thanks. I was naturally superstitious and felt that I ought to show respect to water; after all the sea is capricious, it can give you life and it can also take it away.

  Since no-one felt so present for me to say my secrets, I took my loneliness as far out as I dared to venture and keeping my head from the nose-up above the surface, I whispered it all to the sea.  

  And the sea lent its salt for the wounds to try to heal.