Last stop: Plymouth

This was my journey on 20170507 - long overdue, on the way from London to Plymouth. On the bus it did not feel the same as all the other bus journeys so far. It felt like goodbye, yet the blues and the greens beckoned a smile. And what followed was just a blur of sunlight and more stunning pastoral scenes. I think I could redo this many times over. 

It seems as though to cheer me up. Not the usual grey and gloom as I lugged my hefty backpack and a broken luggage, instead Plymouth chose to greet me with a best first impression. After about almost two weeks here, it chose not to live up to my expectations. Still rather whimsical, but bearably pleasant at times. Being a passer-by seems to aggravate something that had been lying dormant inside, something that even the glare does not cure. 

The attic was to be my home for a while. I wonder if I would miss the musty afternoon silence when I leave this place. It's amazing how memories collect this way when you change surroundings too quickly, too frequently. The mechanism is somewhat the same when the eyes are unable to adjust to the lights after prolonged darkness. Somehow you'd be thankful to see the light, yet some part of your just yearn to remain with the status quo. 

It is the first time, and probably the last, that I would ever have to climb two flights of stairs to reach the ground - and one being a rather creaky one. Each time I pass through this gateway (below), I experience the fear of tumbling and breaking my neck. So far nothing major has happened yet. A few days left and I hope I make it to the end alive. 

The first evening through the attic window, I was greeted by this (below) solo seagull perched on a chimney against the glow of the setting sun. How gracious, how pensive. The seagull stood there for quite some time, as if he/she knew I had the obsession of attempting to perfect a shot - as a welcome gift. It was a limited view, but I guess that was rather sufficient for the first day of landing in a new place.   

My last port in the temperate, before I greet the tropics again. It's melancholy. Yet I'm unsure as to feeling absolutely repulsed by the prospect of a new chapter. A foothold in the familiar, and the next step toward stability. It was a harrowing experience in part, yet oh-so-educational. If I had to choose again I might've done little differently, yet the little had been enough to etch some deep scars and souvenirs.