I’ve been writing a lot about how I feel towards certain things. It sounds a little bit abstract sometimes, not talking precisely about it. I haven’t done it because I’m afraid there is not space nor words enough to write all the things that happened during my semester abroad. That’s the problem, you know, once your “erasmus” semester is over: what to do with all the memories? Being a writer, of course that the only thing I can do with them is just…write them down. Slowly, piece by piece, memory by memory. Anyway, this is just another short version of a very long story.
Truth be told, I was writing a completely different entry. Being who I am, I started dwelling on different things, and I ended up writing about my adventures in the best flat that has ever existed. I have so much to tell about it that eventually decided that this deserves its own, loooong entry, so here it comes!
I was thinking on how to begin this. Where should I start? But then again, I believe that when you fall in love with someone or with something (or anything actually), you don’t really know exactly why or how it happened. Sometimes you can trace it back and connect it to a special moment, to a specific situation. But most of the times (or at least in my case), I can’t grab it. It just happens, and the more I try to think of an explanation or a reason, the more I feel it doesn’t have one. Sometimes, feelings just need to be felt, not thought.
Six days ago, I came back to my home university campus. The last time I was there was seven months ago: it was still winter, and the trees were completely empty. Sitting on the grass was not a possibility, and I was probably wearing 3 layers of clothes. I was a different person seven months ago. I wasn’t sure how the new Sammy was going to react after everything I’ve been through (lots of things that I will tell later on, I guess).