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Life in bokeh

You know the first sunshine after a shower, the kind that peeps through the trees and clouds and makes the raindrops still clinging to everything shimmer? I saw it yesterday. On my way home from a lunch date with the girls, after a spell of being stranded under porticoes and taking refuge in bookshops, and sneaking into puddles and getting a little soaked. But the thing with seeing this kind of sunshine through the foliage when you're myopic is infinitely more beautiful. All you see is little glistening discs of golden and green. It's the same with night lights on a runway. A string of twinkling golden baubles. Life in bokeh, straight out of an out-of-focus photograph.

But when you're not looking at lights, it's another story. You see blobs and stripes of different colors, some that move and some that don't, all meshed together in a blur. You make out shapes but not details. You have the larger picture, but the details can make you or break you. Sometimes things happen so fast that it's all a blur. But this...this isn't even fast. It's been happening for a long time, inching ever nearer. There's nothing to be scared of, really, but scared you feel. Because you've warned yourself not to live a dream again, but without living it, you'll just be unprepared. Quite a sticky, tricky situation.

And sometimes it just feels like this couldn't be happening to you. Like you're aware of it but you can't quite believe it. Like you know where it's going - where you're going - but it feels like you're looking at it from above, or below, or a side. Like you're detached. It's all a blur but you're still moving.

That's what this feels like.

I like to think in the back seat. And realise how far I've come.

I just realised that I'm not freaked out by the rain anymore.