Boys and girls. Thank you for the welcome back. I've been catching up, slowly, with all that has been going on with my MDA buddies. (Yaysu, who would have thought the G-man would have ended up in Rabbit Howls territory.) And. Well, actually rethinking my relationship with here, there and everywhere/everyone. 'Home'coming has been hard.
There's a stretch of coast. It's a bay, with chalk cliffs on one side and clay on the other. And my soul, it has become clear to me, lives in the centre. It's not the most beautiful of all the island's coasts, far from it, but it is mine. Every undulation, every elevation, every curvature, every indentation is etched in such a way that, were my soul were to assume the horizontal or the prone, we would fit as two pieces in an infinite jigsaw. I have been hewn from that geology.
And then there is the city. That city of novelists and poets. Every street, every moment of being has been experienced before as a shadow, as words, as my own memory.
The levels of homecoming were many. Inter-nested: an English doll.
It was beyond painful to get back on the cat. Wave my parents goodbye as they receded, driving down the pier as we sailed away.
It's a wonderful place. It's my cradle. I love it. The Isle. London. England.
All of the above.
And now I am back in the below. Back where I live, my vocation. But my heart, my heart has yet to board a plane.