Chapter I You Got to Be Brave
It was a bright warm morning in November and I was looking up at another unfamiliar ceiling.
‘What time is it?’ I asked myself not expecting an answer. This was the fourth year I can’t remember which month since ‘that’ happened or well when it didn’t. At any rate, it was way past the time for me to get over it.
There was a pleasant smell coming from downstairs interspersed by the familiar noise of mother’s cooking.
I opened my laptop to read the news and some blogs. Once I was outraged enough that I felt good I stopped reading. I closed the laptop and my anger swiftly dissipated itself. Journalism is misery porn and frothing at the mouth in righteous indignation. That’s what I realized after four years of following the news cycle. ‘It’s all hype anyway,’ I told myself, ‘none of it mattered either way.’
There wasn’t anything else to do and my stomach was making strange little noises but I was too lazy to head downstairs. This was the first place we had relocated to which was back in London. Not that places mattered to me anyway and it was even easier to feel one’s past to be insignificant in such a sea of people where everyone’s dirt was just floating around I could just imagine that mine was another piece debris floating along this sea like any other but headed where I wondered? I finally got a hold of my phone; The clock was striking fourteen. I went back to sleep.
