sentimentality

The days are getting more and more intense, filled with activity and goodbyes and last times. I've been barely at home, and almost never on my own. Riding my bike has been the only time I haven't talked to someone. I'm helping a friend with the make-up/costume for a film her boyfriend is shooting and spent the weekend in a strange little bubble. On Saturday I got up when it was still dark outside, sleepily ate some breakfast and cycled to a café in the centre of town when the sun had just gone up. The sky was the loveliest light blue, the streets were completely quiet and peaceful and I felt just great. Sixteen hours later I cycled back home: The city was filled with laughter, people enjoying a night out, a lovely late summer night. I was extremely tired which contributed to the growing sense of sentimentality I felt when I floated past the tourist spots, baroque buildings and churches, the emperor's palace, the huge museums, big streets turning into ever smaller streets the closer I got to my neighbourhood. This town really is the oldest friend of mine.