When in Rome, Take 2

September promoted Rome to Revisited status, as opposed to merely another capital I'd scratched off the global list*. This time round the occasion arrived with predetermined purpose, courtesy of my photographer self. Ten-years-ago me would be proper chuffed that I've returned with my name on the wall of Medina Art Gallery, hanging out with the Ambasciatore della Malesia, and finding myself within the ranks of other international artists in the city. It doesn't escape me that I wrote this with a sense of blasé nonchalance as opposed to jubilant pride (I'm not sure whether this is good or bad, though it probably is a curious thing, but I digress). The point is: Ciao! I am back in this cultured capital as an exhibiting artist! Si, it is great, grazie. 

The showcase aside, I passed my second rodeo in Rome in a semi fugue state, stumbling into echoes of my past in its familiar landmarks. This would have been a great time to deep dive into how much I'd grown and changed in the last 9 years since, noting my notches excitedly - but the fact is, I don't think I navigated it that deeply. There's a moment where I realise it's my second time at the Vatican, looking up at the Sistine Chapel; it's my second time wandering through the Colosseum's ancient, serpentine halls, with an odd feeling of being in a pasar malam. It wasn't an exercise in comparison between the two trips per se. But I do know that I'm glad I did the novel, starry-eyed voyaging in my youth. Having travelled as much as I have since, the yardsticks it takes to impress are much bigger. Coming back there in my 30s, I was mostly ruffled by the summer heat and crowds**.

I spent the last three days back in London in bed, surrounded by my cats and comfort, and am finally able to get some notes out on record. Rome ignited a deeper sense of awareness at the growing perimeters of my confidence. Additionally, these past few weeks have floated up a melee of underlying themes: that nothing compares to home, of letting events and experiences pass and flow through me, of enjoying the present without being too burdened by the past, and of taking life by its horns and creating my own opportunities. The thesis of these notes I will inevitably churn out at my therapy sessions or liminal rumination. As this particular entry is for the residual thoughts, I will end it with the acknowledgement that I'm doing my best to take it all in stride.  

*It joins the rank with Istanbul (which I would do again and again), Gaziantep (a witness to my polar lives: humanitarian aid with CSM and press trip with Turkish Tourism), and Paris (mais bien sur). 

**I landed back in London with a keen determination to avoid pasta, cheese, truffle, and tomato for the rest of the year, and feeling immeasurably glad to be back in my own bed (getting one of the most horrible food poisoning in years was not on the cards but alas).