…actually a time of nourishment for me in many ways. The world has literally been toxic with a virus but quarantining has been a time to detoxify, psychically, from other’s auric energy fields. It’s a relief. Okay, so lesson planning every day and teaching online has still consumed my time but it has been more wholesome. And my job I’ve come to value and enjoy, not least because I’m good at it, because it means I come into contact with some hilarious humans I’m delighted to have as students, but because it’s my bread and butter and supports my everyday needs. So the rest of my time can be spent seeking refuge in all the other art forms I’m obsessed with, that I need in my life to quite simply be my healthiest liberated self. Like photography. Trying to capture a beatific glimpse of the eternal.
I rent a roomy attic flat above a bookshop on the main plaza in Aranda de Duero. It’s airy and spacious and open plan with lovely light to write, read, draw, sew. It’s big enough for two but perfect for one, I love having all this space to myself, I revel in it, it allows me to think and clear my thoughts. It allows me mental replenishment, a great place to self-isolate.
I’m lucky, I know. I enjoy solitude and the artistic life, it suits me fine. It’s freezing in winter and when the spring storms come a-blustering, the wind whistles through, the rain pelts a tattoo and leaks through in various parts of the flat, but now I know where so I always have strategically placed bowls here and there to catch it, and there they remain. The ceiling creaks and groans constantly, involuntarily, particularly in the dead of night, at times jolting me awake with the snapping sound of wood shrinking back to its former size. I find all these idiosyncrasies comforting. I’ll miss this place. It wormed its way into my heart. Sloping ceilings and wood, so much wood, huge terrace with a view of the plaza, just space everywhere. I’ve spent wonderful hours just lying on my bed and thinking, overthinking, realising, cogitating. It was perfect for the time it was mine. It nurtured my poetry and song and art. It’s still mine for a few more weeks.
I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll be sad but glad to go. It’s been great but it’s time to move on. How many countless times have I been here in my life, another chapter finished. Part of me even enjoys leaving. The casting off, the removal of dead leaves, the pruning, the breath of new shoots, the excitement of it. The world suffers but brings fresh hope. I want to be part of its hopeful future.
Sunra Rainz 