“In the first few seconds an aching sadness wrenched his heart, but it soon gave way to a feeling of sweet disquiet, the excitement of gypsy wanderlust” Mikhail Bulgakov
The choice between sorrowful departure and triumphant return exposes an odd kink in the armour. In my expanding experience, leaving pains offer a dark pleasure which can linger unaided for weeks, with some effort sustain indefinitely. Compare that with the flashy brief delight but intrinsic ennui of re-entry…
I find myself in the non-position between states (life?) Last week’s joyful second coming into Vladivostok has slipped into easy familiarity while my imminent departure sits grinning viciously in the shadows. Sometimes I catch its eye, The One jabs my buttons, stirs my swag jam, flips my lid, rekindles an idiotic optimism. I know it’s just bittersweet reflection in a silk shirt yet what if? A kind of perverse repetition’s at play, the cupboard door remains at black-eye level.
Oo! I’m sure I left a Twix in there.
(And so begins the third and final installment of Veronica Feeling: From the far Far East of Russia to the wild Wild West of America, Onwards into the Sunrise. Unsubscribe at will.)
28th April 2015