Quintilis

July : Julius / Juliet

The season’s curtains part for Act 2 of my summer. Lotus flowers are blooming in London’s sandy draught, and the unfurling heatwave drenches the landscape in a pale biscuit shade. I’m gliding through Belgravia’s cocoon of suede loafers, tailored guards, and buttercream townhouses; spending my days accumulating steps through Sloane Square and Knightsbridge, cycling in Chelsea and Hyde Park; and every fur elise’d 9-5, being surrounded by historical artifacts at my embassy office. On weekends I am simply another figure in the manicured grounds of a golf club, a tennis court in the lilac sunset, or head bent over the screen playing chess against Karim (ELO 850). Some special warms evenings, I am attending a bookclub discussion in South Kensington, or wandering through the V&A afterhours at a cultural panoply. 

Every picturesque scene is another petal snacked, enfolding me in the softlit haze of my fancies. I have switched off the static screen of my mental television (one that’s been screeching since earlier this month) and am now reposed on a cushioned satin loveseat in my consciousness, enjoying the act of ‘not thinking’. Why must I strive and suffer, a part of me wonders, when I am waking up every day to this incredible setting? Heavy analytical dialogues are muted while I munch on a sepal. I am simply too occupied being delighted by London’s tableaux d'été, too comfortable in this portion, this postcode, this phase of life. My therapist suggested a time out. In an uber ride this week a friend asked ‘Can you afford to not hustle?’, and I am inclined to display (as one does with collected shells), my daily repertoire as mentioned above. The honey sweet fruit continues consumed, I look up to the thundering horizon and shrug. 

Perhaps I am calypso’d on an island of my own making. Perhaps I am marooned in my own ideals. I am both director and demi goddess, both victim and valiant protagonist. The fishes continue to swim in opposite directions, adrift in the currents of time, geography, and disposition. I have sailed so far from what was expected from me by society that I have instead created a life I consider comfortable and closed away (ish). And contradictory. And cocooned. Some nights I am consumed with loneliness and the longing for my loved ones on the other end of the world. Some nights I am giddily carried away with the independence and liberty of this path I have chosen. The lotus stems are scattered all over the capital. I gather my courage to admit and appreciate this for what it is - a peaceful dreamy apathy, but a reality nontheless. End Scene 3.