Journal Entry 2

29. 06. 2019
A familiar face is home in a strange place. Just now, I was reminiscing on how earlier in the day I had missed my way and saw someone who could help. Even though I didn’t ask, his face gave me a sense of relief; now the rest of that story is inconsequential. It reminded me, however, of how four days ago I had seen someone who reminded me of you.

You must know by now, I’m sure, that it’s the little things. It may have been the glasses or her complexion, or both, or neither, but she reminded me of you. I sat behind her on the bus ride home thinking about you.

The first thing that came to my mind when I tried to take mental notes was: “she reminds me of your effortless fluency of being,” and I laughed wondering what you’d think of it. You had once complimented my phrasing and I may have noticed what you meant. I tried to break it down into details but realised that I’d only be plunging for the mundane. It’s good to be that memory that makes a strange place seem like home so I hope you remember me too.