How long does it take for something beautiful and inspiring to become completely neglected and redundant? This was how it felt- foreign, but cosy in a strangely familiar way. Cherie’s apartment overlooks Canary Wharf and I enjoyed the cold mornings spent on the rooftop terrace.
Am I too easily enticed by things new and forget too quickly the novelty and beauty of things that once was? Perhaps brick walls and cobble stone streets become tiresome. Perhaps the sun glimmering over semi clear water on a cool day becomes something one walks past without stopping. Putting my cynicism and tendency to deromanticize things, here are some things I remember and would love if these memories persist in my mind: Getting an M83 CD at quite a bargain, our short picnic at V&A, V&A in it’s entirety, massaging the aching feet, the comical sight of Cherie’s desperate urge to pee whilst at Canada Water tube station (sorry Cherie I had to write this down), walking alone along Rotherhithe Street, the way the sun lights up the entire apartment, ‘Masa untuk berputty’ playlist, conversations which I hoped lasted till the morning, soap smelling in Liberty, etc.
We should know to ask at once what people would have to lack in order to see an object as beautiful
Alain de Botton in The Architecture of Happiness