I walked home yesterday. It was a good half an hour walk under an evening sky where the remaining embers of light were filtered through branches and the world was made alive with the noise of nature and man mingled together.
My footsteps were slow. I was in no hurry. I had always enjoyed taking solitary long walks. Perhaps it is because such long treks down a road afford me the luxury to indulge in my thoughts and to continuously turn things over in my head. Or perhaps it is because, in these walks, i allow my imagination to run, leap and take flight, and I invent stories in my head as I pass a world hurrying by in another direction.
It makes me a little sad that I will no longer walk down this road from the university. Now to get to work, I would have to travel by bus or train. The distance from my new place to uni is too great. Now I will join the faceless masses on a train during rush hour every morning.
If you can dream-- and not make dreams your master, if you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim *
I feel like another point in my life has passed. It has been one year here. The end of August will tell whether my gamble has been successful and if I'm one step closer to my dream of becoming a professor. And it is two weeks from now, that I will face the two challenges that will determine the success of the first step. I do not feel ready. I do not feel able. But I do want to move forward. I am only afraid of failing, and having an investment fall flat in my face.
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, say could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day over the sea to Skye **
Its 2 pm, the hour to leave this house. goodbye goodbye. and thank you, for another landmark in my life.
*If- Rudyard Kipling
** Sing me a song of a lad that is gone- Robert Louis Stevenson
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