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Saturday, 4 January 2014

Late is late, later is still on time and on time is actually impossible

*sigh*

I'm going back to the As tomorrow. And I'm but guaranteed not to have a bed to sleep in. The outlook of sleeping in far too warm temperatures is no fun either. All that without mentioning what it means to go back to the As again. 

On other news, we went on a road trip to the town where summer school was hosted. Oh, the memories... The one picture I couldn't take was a picture of the place where SmTn and I got a soda before he left. I took pictures of a place near the hotel, but it doesn't quite match what I remember. Could be that it got remodelled. Could be that I got it wrong. However, we visited the hotel. I took pictures of the water fountain, the improvised library, and I ventured a little farther in towards the room SmTn was staying in. It just so happened to be open, so I took a quick picture of what it looked like from the door. Itty bitty tiny little bit stalkerish. I know. I also snapped a picture of the bench where I think (but can't quite remember) we sat down... and he told me his name and I completely forgot about it. I thought it was a green bench, but I couldn't see any green bench, so I opted for guessing which of the stores was the one I bought my Coca-cola in and I thought it was nice that the bench I thought was "the one" was occupied by a man on a guitar playing Kansas' "Dust In The Wind." The bench was, then, a place of music, but also of magic, and memories and faery tales... and SmTn. Much like the rest of the town. 




When I got back and looked at the pictures I couldn't settle on a single one to send SmTn. I also got him a postcard I'm not sure I'll get around to mailing. I chose 6 pictures that told a story (I thought): one of the hotel entrance, one of the town square and another that sort of centred the bench with the guitar playing man, one of the hotel's water fountain, one of the library (on the way to his room, I didn't dare add the picture of his old room) and, finally, one of the road that leads to the house where I was staying (and we walked on for a bit, as we ran to get my bag). 

There was a very sad misunderstanding I was only made aware of a day after the fact. While I walked around the hotel taking pictures, my parents talked to the people at the reception desk. They talked about previous summer schools hosted there. The old man told me they had actually not hosted last year's and had moved it to this year. The thought of it made imagine a future where I could go back this summer and see SmTn (I did tell him, after all, I'd do anything to be there for the next summer school... maybe he'd be there too). Then, when I mentioned how I'd absolutely attend it if it took place this year mum burst the bubble: the old man got it all wrong, of course they hosted it on time last year and won't host it again until next year. It remains a fact, then: I visited the town six months too late.

Upon coming back the song that played in the back of my head was "(I've Had) The Time of My Life"




[Sunday afternoon edit]
I found an answer from SmTn to my "*fireworks* [link to photo folder]" message: "Thanks. Big Smile :)" That's it. I'm a little let down, you know. Couldn't he use an extra line just to wish me the same (a happy new year)? Couldn't he write anything more? Couldn't we pretty please talk just the tiniest bit? Couldn't he open the door for me to bring up the outrageous idea? I almost feel like he shot me down with that. Like it's the final confirmation of how he was drunk texting me that Christmas greeting and I caught him sober and very much unwilling to reciprocate when I wished him a happy new year. I feel most definitely stupid for the whole exchange. And now I've got ABBA's "Take a Chance on Me" stuck in my head.



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