Out of the Audience

Today I reminded myself why it is that I crave independence, freedom and solitude. Why it is that I pepper my life with human interaction but at the end of the day seek the gentle hum of Miles Davis in an empty kitchen. Dinner for one is often painted as a recipe for disaster. Echoes of ‘but aren’t you lonely?’ ring in my ears. Sometimes I fall victim to those notions, so drummed into our psyche that they appear as absolute truth. As I prepare to leave my surroundings for three weeks I cherish those final moments to myself. A cool summer breeze edges in through the kitchen door, Kind of Blue filling the silences of a deserted house. Once again I sit in a home that is not mine, now accustomed to a daily existence lived from a single bag. Without realising it, I slipped into a love for new spaces; unfamiliar to the untrained eye, but with comfort undeniably resting in every corner. Isolation is often denoted as a time for reflection. Countless notebooks slowly fill up, decorated with a penmanship resembling my father’s. Closed into myself and another empty room, it is here that I come to terms with all those moments which now lie dormant as memories. The thing about being in your own company is that it remains reserved from judgement. Gone are the concerns of social conduct; mistakes being somewhat simplified as choices. Now, I embrace a new day with the sound knowledge that all I must rely on is my own two feet, centred calmly in coral trainers. If it is love and happiness that we seek I can safely say that I have already found them, at my very fingertips, with each isolated word layered on an awaiting page.