Modern Condition.

I’ve lost count of how many weeks have gone by. I do know that there are 43 days left. One entire month and a bit left. I’m okay. I’ve managed to settle down alright, partly because global cities are similar wherever you go:

The glamour. The dirt. The glazed and averted eyes. The cliffs of chrome and glass. The marble fortresses. The rivers of tin and steel. Different flavours of the same pollution. The kabuki faces. The nomads. The pot bellies and the empty stomachs.

The irony.

The distance between squalor and Department of Justice & Human Rights is roughly four metres. In four metres lies an abyss of letters and punctuations. I’m losing faith in the Bureaucracy. I still believe in Democracy though. I have been reminded where I came from and that has tempered much of my ideals. Identity is an individual expression but it is more contextually sensitive than we readily admit. It is defined by the spaces we occupy, always defined in contradistinction to this…Other. I think I’m making sense.

I don’t know. I’ll always be a strange kid wherever I go. That’s okay. There’s plenty of misfits here. Most of them seem to be working under the same office.

So it’s alright. I’ll be fine.

I can do this adulthood thing.