Norwich settles my soul. It falls in its place in my chest and rests, untrusting and grumbling about the unfamiliarity of it all.
I look at the sky and drink its magnificence akin only to the sky I saw in my childhood, when I was still small and played with the wind, – deeper blue and impossibly vast, half a world away from here.
It feels like an honour to watch the spring unfold its wings, and winds, and leaves, and greens behind my – rented – window.
Not sure if earned. I look back – and I can’t see a road I walked to get here; it’s all just disconnected patches of packed dirt here and there, and looks like a road only if you squint and wish it really hard. But my soul settles deeper into its grooves and hums contentedly, as I try to stop searching for the source of guilt, and just watch the clouds float by.
There are many bumblebees in my – rented – garden. And I’m grateful for them and for their busy buzzing, calling me to continue my toil.
Norwich settles my soul, and in time, it might help me finally get some rest.