normal

Last weekend I met up with friends in London. Friends from home.

We’d talked for months about it. Trying to picture what it would be like. We’d be different of course.  Travel and experience would do that to us. So would independence. So would the Northern hemisphere. Perhaps my hair would be longer and controllable in London. My friends might be sporting a new jacket. And our conversations would be more refined. Polished and crisp. 

And then I saw them, last weekend. And I had to utter “this is amazing” and “I can’t believe this”. But I could. And it is believable. It’s normal and we’re still normal. And only when you stop and think about it, about where you are, and where you’ve come from does it seem a bit incredible. 

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