søndag 15. november 2015

Paris at night.

I remember a night like last night with the same sunken gut, the known knot in the stomach and the not so distant feeling of mourning and loss – all part of the familiar experience some years back. I didn’t expect to have that feeling revisited. I’m not so sure when the next one will come now.
Back in July 22 2011 I went on night watch duty. The most common perception from that night? Surreal, unrealistic. The “how could this happen” and “why” swirled around a lot. Last night that didn’t happen: I was simply quietly grieving in silence, as well as growing a new-found fear of the future.
In other charming news; I’ll be spending the next month – yes, that’s right: the entire month – in night watch mode, starting yesterday. Well, it’s going to be shortage of light anyway, so I might as well do it when it’s easy to sleep during the day. Or, easier, at least. Still, getting paid to stay up all night? I can think of worse jobs.
Born. Given life. Alive. Unchecked. Wild. Running.
We’ll always have Paris. And New Orleans.

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