Beginning

I'm writing from Seoul. I moved here last week.I left Toronto. It still feels surreal. The last couple of days have been a blur. I'm sleepy by 18:00, and then burst alive by 20:00 and want to write for hours. I've been arranging my tiny flat. I feel like a toy with a tiny bathroom, bed, dresser, table, mirror.
I feel aeshtetic.
I just feel.

Toronto taught me how to feel when pushed to the limit. Toronto taught me to fight for my breath. Now I just feel. Now I just am.

I drink my coffees, sit in cafes, read, go for long walks, try to clumsily speak in Korean. I grin through my clumsy bows. Asian men stare. I'm a fusion of cultures. I don't know if I'm Canadian, Romanian, North American or European. Here it doesn't matter. I'm everything because I'm just not Korean. I'm absolutely everything I've always been. It feels so good.
When I landed, I freaked out. I panicked and wanted to go back on the first flight. Then, I breathed. I paused. I looked around and settled.
This is my life. This is what I've chosed to do for a year before life continues. I had planned my previous months to a painful detail. I knew what I would do with friends after operas ended. I knew how many cigarettes my best friend would want in intermission. I knew Jenna would need gin after seeing Don Giovanni. I knew which shoes to wear with Mel to Rigoletto. I saw Prokoiev's Romeo and Juliet with Danie 2 before and knew we'd wear white gold with our white sweaters.I have made no plans here. I only plan my lessons for teaching. I only write out my grocery lists.It's cold and I mostly love coming home to warm heated floors and a made bed. I make hot cocoa and wear long socks to bed. I spent New Years watching the Nutcracker ballet with a friend I've made.




I've said my goodbyes. They weren't painful.