Why is moving house so emotional? Perhaps it’s being confronted with the amount of crap you’ve accumulated over the years. Or maybe it’s the simple nostalgia of so much time passing. The unknown is also overwhelming, the giant leap towards who knows what.
When I first moved here, it was as part of a couple. Now it’s two decades later. I’m single, but the ghosts of past lovers are hiding in cupboards and shadows. They’re not leery or malevolent, though, they’re actually weirdly comforting. It’s my style choices that remain questionable. That mint green raincoat… What the fuck was I thinking there?
This city hasn’t been terribly kind of late, and now it’s time to move on. Parachute is not included, nor any guarantees. Here’s hoping for a soft landing.
Hit The North 