the buzz in the room is getting louder. voices and conversations are blending into one, which helps save me from focusing too much on other people’s conversations and zoning into my own thoughts

but there’s also something about the conversations today that i sort of want to stay tuned into. like the chatter from the table to my left. the older bohemian-biker gentleman is parting writing wisdom onto his younger listeners. dressed in a leather messenger cap, with a leather jacket, and baggy leather pants tucked into his leather cowboy boots, he speaks with an ambiguous accent. he’s flanked to all sides by what i assume to be his students — one british guy, a second from somewhere in america, and a young woman who just joined the bunch but has yet to say a word

they’re talking about scripts and stories. and while the plot lines don’t necessarily captivate me, just being in the vicinity of creativity is feeding my spirit while the almond cappuccino brings my brain back to life for the first time today

it’s 1:30pm. outside of ramadan, i can’t recall the last time i was uncaffeinated at this hour. and unlike ramadan, where my first day i down two panadols before sunrise to stave off the inevitable withdrawal headache, today i didn’t. and yet there was nothing pulsing in my skull. but my mood was starting to take a hit, which was amplified by my directional disorientation as i seemed to loop around myself in circles in my attempt to to exit the confusing maze of downtown manhattan

determined not to turn to my phone for help, i was sure i could use some kind of intuition to navigate my way up town. wanting to avoid looking like a tourist in the midst of dozens on dozens of people taking 9/11 tours, i’m not even sure why i was so keen on differentiating myself as if anyone was paying attention. the more rational reason, i tell myself, was to conserve power as i realized i’d left my extra battery pack in the hotel

alas, eventually i capitulated to the google god and allowed it to lead me to the nearest bookstore — a grounding destination just outside the loopy madness

from there, i shook off the hiccup of the morning and decided to bring myself to reggio. it’s darker than i remember it on the inside. perhaps because the last time i was here, it was in the middle of winter and the sky wasn’t as bright as it is today… the contrast between out and in must have been less jarring

like the weather, there are many things that were in a different season last time. and i know the metaphor is right beyond the surface, inviting me to dig deeper into my psyche, into the changes i’ve experienced

but i’m not quite ready yet. my second cup of cappuccino arrives, and as i lean back to take in all its bitterness, i remember a photo i found of me at this exact bench and table once upon a time. i was reading a novel, one hand holding the book and the second casually propping up my chin. my short hair, perfectly straight and framing my face

what is most noticeable to me at least, is my posture. almost dancer-like , my back was so effortlessly straight. i don’t know when or how that started changing, but it is one of the things i miss most about my younger body. as i realize that, i straighten up a little and make a promise to myself that i’ll put in more effort to correct it

i look up from my notebook and notice someone across the room taking a picture of the space. i wonder if i happen to be in it and if maybe i’ll be able to find it online later. if maybe i’ll have a visual comparison of my two selves. i try to see myself through a lens that might not even be pointing at me and try to imagine the two hypothetical pictures side by side

my hair is longer in this one. wavy where it was once straight. it sits to the side and contrasts the many colors of my oversized shirt. my back curves where it was once straight. my legs no longer cross over each other as comfortably as they once did – a testament to the size increase of my thighs. i’ve learned different ways to rest the base of my foot on table edges to try to weigh them down. i was not at my skinniest in that first photo, but i am definitely at my thickest now. there are moments that it bothers me. and more moments where it doesn’t

it bothers me mainly when i see how different i look in pictures — ironic, considering that’s what i’m hoping to be captured in right now. it bothers me when i feel the subtle aches in my shoulders from the pressure of sizes i’ve outgrown

it doesn’t bother me though when i’m going through any day, consumed moment by moment in whatever i’m doing. i try to emphasize that to myself in an effort to remember that that’s what it’s all about

it wouldn’t show up in any photo, but i think perhaps the main difference between the two versions of that picture would be that the girl with the short hair had no worries about time. she didn’t trip about resources running out and having to maximize anything. she must have felt that every moment had a chance to last forever and an equal chance of recreating itself

the girl with the long hair is a bit more challenging to dissect though. she’s much more appreciative of the temporary nature of life, but also a little too conscious of it sometimes

and sometimes that consciousness can cause her to put unnecessary pressure on things that the short haired girl would have just cruised through lightly

as i look around the now empty caffè, still imaging the two versions of the picture, i try to take some mental snapshots, thinking that perhaps i’ll paint some version of this moment one day

a new group of people walk in and sit to my right. they discuss the mythology around the cappuccino machine in the corner. the history of this special place. “you can’t fake history,” one of the patrons says as he admires the details of the artwork

“i think i’m gonna stay here and read for a while,” another one of them says, as the person nearest me muses out loud “i wish i lived in new york. i’d just stay here all day and write a novel”

and that wish of hers, vocalized out loud to her friends, binds to the caffeine that comfortably courses through me now to give me the moment of clarity that i’ve been searching for since the morning

i don’t wish i lived here, or anywhere other than where i do. i wish i could visit much more often, but i’m actually so perfectly content with where i live. with how i spend my time there. so much so that j probably wouldn’t have planned any time away if it weren’t for my cousin’s upcoming wedding

and in an odd way, i think it’s because of my appreciation for where i am in life, combined with my awareness of everything’s temporary-ness that actually unlocks some kind of anxiety for me

it feels like i’m standing at a very high altitude, enjoying a gorgeous view. and although i believe it can get even more beautiful, i’m also acutely aware of the risk and reality of a possible fall

because wow have i fallen from some high places in recent years

and before i allow myself to dwell on any of those experiences unproductively, i remind myself that wow, have i also gotten up and climbed again. and again.

— written september 21, 2023 at caffe reggio