Sometimes I think I live in the middle of a myth. This is the view from my lecture rooms in George Square. I snapped it before a meeting with my supervisor this afternoon. No wonder all I did in my third year here was to stare out the window and speed read all of the assignments and notes at home. I barely paid attention to anything else. We have a castle, crags, a hill that passes for a mountain, and layers and layers of history in the mortar.
Last night, I dreamt that I Skyped with my high school math teacher, Joe, who told me that he used to have the nickname of “Cricket”. This morning, I woke up to a message from his partner, who sent me a link to How to Write Letters: A Vintage Guide to the Lost Art of Epistolary Etiquette, 1876. I love the synchronicity of dreams and what we wake up to. And I love that not all people who are far away are distant. One thing I will say for technology: it gives us a multitude of avenues by which to reach each other.
I live in a myth. Sometimes I think we forget that we live constantly on the verge, with one foot in each world. The old world, and the new world. Edinburgh has an Old Town and New Town. My favourite place in the world is the space right between them. It’s where we live, right now.
Back to dreaming.