Belonging - Place (Sample)
The Only Living Boy in Paris
Day 1: Flying Away
This transit into the clouds symbolises everything I am afraid of, yet seems a beacon of every god given opportunity that might await me. Leaving the city you’ve always lived in, to live in a big city such as Paris is an undeniable risk but for me it seems the only option. I need change. I’ve lost my place in Sydney – I am essentially living off food, water and warmth. I’ve no family, no friends and as I seem to loathe waking up everyday, I ought to find some solitude in a new land, both more exotic and romantic than the dull humidity and lifelessness of my homeland.
Sitting in a cramped economy seat, beside someone I wish was not next to me, my thoughts are clouded by my memories. Images of the day both my parents left me, the loneliness this brought me and even the things I will miss – the comforts, the assuredness, the structure of a daily routine. The ‘vegemite-on-toast’ breakfast option feels like a sneer at my leaving – it subconsciously questions whether I’m making the right decision but I remind myself that in Australia, I’m now alone and don’t belong to anyone or anything, my life without meaning. Attempting to comfort my tiringly negative thoughts, I lull myself to a deep, albeit uncomfortable sleep.
Day 2: Moving In
Carrying your suitcase up flights of stairs (because Parisians choose to have miniscule elevators), is not what most people typically love to do after a daylong flight but I’m here. I open the curtains to a cool but thrilling winds embrace. I am really here. This is it. After the tenant has left me, I stand and take it in. No one here either… just like Sydney. I’ll give it some time though; I escaped to France for a reason – new opportunities, beautiful cities and villages, a chance to live again.
I race to unpack, to feel that sense of settle and rearrange the limited furniture I chose not to sell. My apartment looks bare but complete. I’m done. That frustrating mood
Day 1: Flying Away
This transit into the clouds symbolises everything I am afraid of, yet seems a beacon of every god given opportunity that might await me. Leaving the city you’ve always lived in, to live in a big city such as Paris is an undeniable risk but for me it seems the only option. I need change. I’ve lost my place in Sydney – I am essentially living off food, water and warmth. I’ve no family, no friends and as I seem to loathe waking up everyday, I ought to find some solitude in a new land, both more exotic and romantic than the dull humidity and lifelessness of my homeland.
Sitting in a cramped economy seat, beside someone I wish was not next to me, my thoughts are clouded by my memories. Images of the day both my parents left me, the loneliness this brought me and even the things I will miss – the comforts, the assuredness, the structure of a daily routine. The ‘vegemite-on-toast’ breakfast option feels like a sneer at my leaving – it subconsciously questions whether I’m making the right decision but I remind myself that in Australia, I’m now alone and don’t belong to anyone or anything, my life without meaning. Attempting to comfort my tiringly negative thoughts, I lull myself to a deep, albeit uncomfortable sleep.
Day 2: Moving In
Carrying your suitcase up flights of stairs (because Parisians choose to have miniscule elevators), is not what most people typically love to do after a daylong flight but I’m here. I open the curtains to a cool but thrilling winds embrace. I am really here. This is it. After the tenant has left me, I stand and take it in. No one here either… just like Sydney. I’ll give it some time though; I escaped to France for a reason – new opportunities, beautiful cities and villages, a chance to live again.
I race to unpack, to feel that sense of settle and rearrange the limited furniture I chose not to sell. My apartment looks bare but complete. I’m done. That frustrating mood