I'm currently sitting in York's museum gardens, directly inside what would once have been a church. On one side of me the walls are mostly intact, crumbling a little, and on the other there's nothing there but the remains of the stone foundations in the ground. It's raining lightly and sporadically and the wind is rustling my hair as I sit here - in other words, it's a perfect November day, and it's exactly the kind of weather that inspires me most.
I've been stuck in my flat for the past couple of days doing work, and despite the fact that none of my friends are free today, I'd have gone insane stuck in there for another day. I'm taking the opportunity to have a wander around York on my own, as I've been intending to ever since I moved in. I can't describe how glad I am that I did it. York is ridiculously busy today; Christmas markets here and there, Christmas shoppers everywhere, but as I walk through its beautiful, historical streets, I can feel myself falling in love with it all over again. York is incredible. It's like being plunged into the past and yet staying right here in the present; it's a city and yet it's nothing like other cities I've been to (in this country at least). It's so easy to imagine the Vikings and the Romans and all the other invaders making their home here the way it's now becoming mine. I truly love it here.
I went to one of the markets I stumbled across and acquired a stack of plastic cups for a pound and three books for 60p... can't beat that! I'm tempted to go back for one of the cakes as well. Nom.
I can't help but think of Zoe as I sit here because this place is swarming with photographers... I even whipped out my camera and I wouldn't call myself a photographer under any circumstances. There are so many things here to take pictures of!
I don't really know why I'm writing this post. I just felt an inexplicable need to express the way I feel right now - it seems York gets under your skin - but I can't. As seems to happen to me a lot, words have given up on me just as I need them most.
Sometimes you can't write your feelings down. Sometimes you just have to feel them instead. I can't think of a more frustrating concept than that, but for me at least, it's often the way. The things that mean the most are the hardest things to describe, and whether you're writing or speaking isn't going to change that. Maybe that's why they're called feelings - because you don't describe them. You feel them, and that's all you can do.
Molly x
(Sorry about the gaps between posts; Blogger's clearly having a bad software day!)
I've been stuck in my flat for the past couple of days doing work, and despite the fact that none of my friends are free today, I'd have gone insane stuck in there for another day. I'm taking the opportunity to have a wander around York on my own, as I've been intending to ever since I moved in. I can't describe how glad I am that I did it. York is ridiculously busy today; Christmas markets here and there, Christmas shoppers everywhere, but as I walk through its beautiful, historical streets, I can feel myself falling in love with it all over again. York is incredible. It's like being plunged into the past and yet staying right here in the present; it's a city and yet it's nothing like other cities I've been to (in this country at least). It's so easy to imagine the Vikings and the Romans and all the other invaders making their home here the way it's now becoming mine. I truly love it here.
I went to one of the markets I stumbled across and acquired a stack of plastic cups for a pound and three books for 60p... can't beat that! I'm tempted to go back for one of the cakes as well. Nom.
I can't help but think of Zoe as I sit here because this place is swarming with photographers... I even whipped out my camera and I wouldn't call myself a photographer under any circumstances. There are so many things here to take pictures of!
I don't really know why I'm writing this post. I just felt an inexplicable need to express the way I feel right now - it seems York gets under your skin - but I can't. As seems to happen to me a lot, words have given up on me just as I need them most.
Sometimes you can't write your feelings down. Sometimes you just have to feel them instead. I can't think of a more frustrating concept than that, but for me at least, it's often the way. The things that mean the most are the hardest things to describe, and whether you're writing or speaking isn't going to change that. Maybe that's why they're called feelings - because you don't describe them. You feel them, and that's all you can do.
Molly x
(Sorry about the gaps between posts; Blogger's clearly having a bad software day!)
1 comment:
One of my favourite posts so far. You shouldn't make up reasons for writing so often. Just write and we will love you for it. I'm glad York is opening up your mind and helping you write and feel.
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