Sometimes when talking to ST, in the middle of the conversation, I feel a little worry seep in, remembering what you, Beansprouts, mentioned of P sometime before. That there came a year when P suddenly took on professionality, and for that there was an indescripable distance formed, and ever since then I’ve still been afraid of people growing up.

The truth is, I am constantly afraid of the important ones in my life tiring of me. Somehow you’re excluded Beansprouts, because, I don’t know, we’re so close- so somehow you are involved in contemplating this possibility rather than being in that realm. It needs to start from a little well of regrets, an emerging distance, a lack of closure, which then escalates into a contemplation which sometimes become a frenzied monster of envisioned possibilities at strange hours. I am too imaginative, so I often feel that within me is a substance alike that in one of the Harry Potter books- you know what I mean Beansprouts, the one which transforms to become your greatest fear or something alike that, and it is the same for most of the things I dwell on at the back of my mind.

I think in many ways I am quite a child and there is nothing special. The only thing I can claim for my own is that – yes Beansprouts, you and I know what is hidden inside that boa constrictor – and for this we are connected to that little spring of secrets in those we meet which were once children and remember that too. Which is why I really liked Antoine St Expury’s book, and why I liked the fact that you chose that gift for me, so much, because it is that which will perhaps be unchanged in my life.

Sometimes, just sometimes, talking on the phone to ST, as he shares about the social events in his life, his plans, his cases, and we discuss about issues, I once again feel admonished, feel as though I could disappear and he wouldn’t mind at all, the fox which somehow adopted the wrong owner (if foxes could adopt owners). It is a strange happenstance of feeling like a nullity and grasping at items of professionality to find value, but then, I was never a person like that, as we talked about Beansprouts, and neither could I ever be.

Does life change when we become lawyers/bankers? When you make your first step into Linklaters, my dear Beansprouts, and start your first opinion, does that little glimmer of excitement about a legal issue instead translate into practical defeatist attitudes? When we talk again on the phone, would we really translate into chatty TH of the highest order? Will there be one day, that I feel like a child again, talking to you, and find out I didn’t grow up when the world was spinning around?

It is like that, I followed the world of the Kate Atkinson book character, without realizing the author had planned a separate message for her pages ahead. I will be dreaming of love (MB) when you are musing about forgotten or historial affection (Kazuo Ishiguro). I will be enthused over new colours to pass the season, or how to shape my mouth into the finest miaow, but you might have grown up without me.

I am worried, of the world growing up, and I not even realizing it, except in the middle of phone conversations, except in the middle of eating baked potatoes, except in the middle of long postal queues.


One response to “

  • B.

    I think you’re referring to a boggart – except they’re not substances, but dark creatures that live inside cupboards – and morph themselves into your greatest fear when you encounter them.

    Very important.

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