“You are a colander, sometimes
Sometimes what keeps you alive is a mystery.”
– Aracelis Girmay
Another night, another room, in another hotel in a city so many thousands of miles away. In my life so often it occurs to me that the more I love, the further the object of my affection seems to grow.
You know this well – distance is measured not only in miles and kilometres but the inches that grow between two sleeping bodies. The longer silences at dinner tables, and the shorter phone calls. The gravid pauses, the thinly veiled small talk, the nights spent facing the wall, your back to the back of the one you love.
Distance is elastic. As Mohammad, a young Syrian refugee I met today said, “it doesn’t matter which place is better – here or there. Where your feet take you that is where you are meant to be.”