Boston:
Renowned for a tea party, a strangler and a bar called Cheers this place reeks of history. The architecture is detailed and old, complete with turrets, broad streets and sculpture scattered across the city. Beantown is home to Berklee University, Boston University and with Harvard University just around the corner it has the feel of turning pages to me, of Good Will Hunting and Boston Legal.
It feels like the most European city I've visited in the States. Have you ever watched any movies about the Boston Strangler? Think back on the setting: it's not a set. Parts of Boston still look like that today, exquisite in the denseness of history it carries.
I'm sitting in a dive bar called TC's round the corner from where I'm staying. Two guys wearing business suits are shooting the crap out of buffalo running across an African-themed screen whilst their girlfriends feed the jukebox coins. I suck back a vodka-soda and ponder where I will be this time next week, how I might feel and if I might stand aghast at how quickly this journey has ground to an end. Who will I be when I go back to my homeland? It is the partial loss of identity that makes traveling such a thrill: you're no one's daughter, lover or friend. You are only a traveler.
Right now I feel a bit of what Earl is feeling: the knowledge of impending ending and the high that comes with it. I savor every moment of it, gently scooping it up in my hands for a second before releasing it up into the sky.
Am I the girl sitting and writing in a bar in Boston Universe? Or am I a little girl who has fallen asleep in her sister's lap on the lawn outside, having played with her kitten Dina.
Am I about to wake up?
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