Whaddaday

Miles from where you are
I lay down on the cold ground
I pray that something picks me up
and
Sets me down in your warm arms

-Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright

After spending a brilliant day with Sha, with a fantastic find and finally the boots that I've been secretly eyeing for ages I came home for some dinner with Molly who was patiently waiting for me by the door.

Note to self: the ravioli from M&S is manky and super eggy. eyuck.

Note to self: go buy more maggi from the shop down the road, you've run out.

So I've sat myself down to get in some serious reading for tomorrow's round-table discussion. The theme was 'sites of violence' with emphasis on not showing the act of violence itself. So naturally I opened up my folder marked Sri Lanka.

A few minutes later trying after trying to locate a suitable photo I find myself a little shakey with a massive lump in my throat. As I look at the photos of the men we were working with for a length of time so short in the grand scheme of things, I feel for them more than I can feel for some people I may have known for years. The photos for me are so real as they stare into the camera and I can remember their voices as they worked, though I cannot say I even knew their names. Nor did they know mine.

At the time, I was simply going through the motions, getting up, going to work, coming back for lunch, going back to work, coming home from work, having dinner, reading a couple pages of my book, sleeping, then doing it all over again. Now, 6 months later, I realise how I miss my friends dearly and pray that they are still okay as the day we left them. Maybe I shall take these boots back and buy me a ticket back. xxw