The city, the ways in which this city will change me.
Our tales of sound and fury, the parts recorded by logic, diligence and passion, the parts unrecorded yet known. I am at the very tender stage of being on the threshold, where my present self can take the proleptic backseat in anticipation of what is to come. Funny how even as I am here thousands of miles away, I still see scenes which remind me of my motherland. Till now, I am unsure if she truly likes me, although I know our love for each other exists by default. What a strange type of love.
The weather has not been grey enough to inspire despair. On the contrary, it has been pleasant and I have been surprised by the unfolding warmth and hospitality, how little I had hoped and expected to save from bruising me. Solitary visits to the city, its cafes, the smell of filth and promise in thrift stores, the clickclack of footsteps on wood floors in museums, furnishing a room with my own ideas, taste, eccentricities, the joy of having once again the access to libraries. I am thinking new things and feeling nervous, at long last nervous again, about my abilities and the subsequent mental growth which hopefully awaits me.
I know that to an extent, this city will change me.