Cottages

When I was much younger I used to think about what it meant to be me. What it felt like to control this body, to have for all intents and purposes to contain everything that made me who I was sat in my skull.

When I look back on my life most of my first memories are at school. Kindergarten. I remember sitting in Ms. Wurtzels class thinking about what it meant to be someone other than myself. The way I associated with myself up until that time was simple I was "me" it did not get much deeper than that. But as I thought about what it felt like to be or to live as a completely different person. Since that time I sometimes like to imagine what it would be like to be or live as someone else. Somewhere else.

Imagine living in this tiny little cottage in the middle of Hyde Park in London. With the green trees and steep pitched roof. It would be so small and quiet. So peaceful. It is a place where you would eat tea and muffins at three and sit tiny stuffed arm chair in a tiny little corner library. It is a place with white sheets and bluebell dishes.

This is a place of sunny afternoons and creamy cheese. With olives and sundried tomatoes with fresh fish. This is the country of blue and white. Where people sit for long evenings and afternoons and hand roll cigarettes. Where I lay on my white and blue striped bed and with loose scarves and tan sandals. I feel the ocean breeze and dive beneath the waves with my air tank on my back. I feel the water like a perfect-cool second skin.

So as we go into finals sometimes it is nice to take that thought vacation.