During the summer
I was becoming a junior
at Indiana University,
I found myself studying abroad
in London.
Breathtaking
in its truest simplicity.
Three weeks spent
wandering the inner and outer edges
of a city layered
in history, violence,
and quiet triumphs.
A memory that lives unconscious—
as if the experience
never fully lived at all.
London outside me,
but home
loud and rattling
inside my head.
I was not yet mentally grown.
A new affection for Jäger and Red Bull,
a half pint the first night
turned ritual—
waiting for the evening hours
to join the pub-ustery,
to practice negativity
until dawn.
Distracted—
Counting the days
until I could go home.
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