Going Under in a World of Wonder [Cambridge, Cambridgeshire]

by - July 27, 2015

 The walls here are very thin. The footsteps of our neighbours echo down to our flat and shake me awake in the mornings. By contrast, I almost always fall asleep to the sound of somebody playing the piano long past the witching hour.

 My mother has decorated the windowsills with blooming flowers; one of them smells just like chocolate and I never miss the opportunity to take a whiff of it when I'm heading out or coming back. She says she couldn't get used to it at first - the dreary skies, the somber bedroom with no windows, so she added a bit of colour. And now we're slowly dressing up all of the rooms with do-it-yourself projects.

 I've had no trouble adjusting to the town. Multicoloured flowers paint the grey landscape and even the clouds hiding the moon from my senses feel more like a comforting blanket than a stone-cold wall.

 But, even with the scent of flowers and the musical soundtrack, even with the cute bunny mugs in the kitchen and the fairy lights in the bedroom, this is only an illusion of a home. My true 'home', my safety and adventure, is on his way right now. He's just outside my window, descending the stone steps... and now he's knocking on the door. I rush to open it and throw myself into a pair of warm, sturdy arms.
 "Hey, Bunbun. Wanna come out?"





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