Thursday, April 7, 2011

Dreaming of Oxford

I have often said that I miss certain cities the way I miss people.
This sentiment first struck me during my summer at Oxford.
I never thought a location could be so nourishing.

Of course, it was fun trying on a new identity of a chic, English girl; one who makes calls from red phone booths and sprawls across lush lawns with an eager notebook. Not to mention, double decker bus rides through endearingly empty roads, a pond with friendly ducklings, and neglected stairwells that always smelled like wet streets. Vines jealously crawled up the sides of buildings, only satisfied when they kissed a thatched roof. The Indian men who owned Kebab Kid always had hints of flour on their fingertips and I almost wondered if they were born that way.

But there was more...

It was as though every element of the city was carefully selected and preserved, brushed with equal portions of art and practicality

Or maybe it was the knowledge that great ideas came to life here, that maybe they were still tucked into the grass, wall cracks, and cobblestone streets, and you can almost hear them whispering to you, encouraging you to join them.

Isn't there something magical about being in a place where things happened? There's an aura, a life that still lingers

One day I will go back, but until then, I can quench myself with memories...