Finished the viva. Was confident. Wished I had gone through all the points I jotted down. Wished I had made more eye contact. I'm happy with what I did, but you never know. Dentistry is full of 'it always turns out to be crappier than what you expected' moments. Spoke to J. on the tram. My life. My Melbourne. My dental school. My tram trips to and from Melbourne Central- connected seamlessly in my memory into a very long trip spanning the years- looking at the quaint little terraces or modern new-fangled buildings with somewhat weird colour schemes- watching friends walk instead of taking the tram, who clearly don't mind carrying their heavy bags. Or maybe it's just me with a heavy bag.
Borders awaits with rows and rows of book. Straight to the Poetry section. Flipping through the books to find one that 'speaks' to me. There's always a book with writings that draw me in. Like honey to the bee. Poetry -my recently discovered joy- can really get me high. Are drugs any different from this? Bought The unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath. Instantly hypnotised. Memories and old feelings come back, those of 2003, when I read Mel Woss's Alone by Myself. Why die? Why write so well? How come your ability to think, your creativity, your mastery over the use of words are unable to save you from ending your life?
I read on the train. Words words words. Beautiful words. Words that grow. Words that flow and transform and enrich the imagination.
Young beautiful woman of incredible creative energy and talent, words in her hands are like flour in the hands of the baker, a shapeless mass soon kneaded into something incredibly beautiful. Her journal, already overflowing with overwhelming emotions and surreally beautiful imagery, gives the impression of the language not being able to capture the depths of her raw emotions.
Arrived at Montmorency. The sky was blue. An effortlessly beautiful crystal clear blue sky.The sunglasses breathe life into things I see, taking away the uncessarily glaring light that is very much a part of this dry continent. Sun beaming down. Vertical rays douse everything in very warm light. The shops were brimming with sounds and colours. Lush green trees in stark contrast with the too-blue-sky. Cafes. Birds' chirping . Cars truggling for a parking slot. Mums with prams. Coffee-lovers with cup in hand. Children's laughter. Summer wind. My November.