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brighton the corners



I've been meaning to write about coming to Brighton, but I don't really know what to say. The initial hassles are out of the way, I'm settled in, and now it's the little things that preoccupy me. I haven't even taken any photos of the city because it seems... well, weird. I don't feel like a tourist here. I'm getting to know the side streets and little shops, the bus schedules and weather patterns. Brighton is home now. My life in the States has taken on a weird, unreal quality, a half-remembered dream that I'm not entirely convinced ever happened. It seems so far removed from here and now.

Maybe it's because I have a sort of quasi-nomadic habit. My relationship with cities is one of serial monogamy; I live somewhere for a few years, and by the time I move somewhere else, I can't wait to get away. I wonder if I'll be as eager to get out of Brighton as I was to get out of Ohio. Moving here represents a sea-change for me, a considerable step forward in the process of Getting My Shit Together. I knew I wanted to move to the UK; what I didn't know was what I'd do after I got here. For the first time, I'm not really that worried about it. One thing I've learned from the process is that things really can work out. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. My whole perspective on life has changed in the space of a few weeks.

I keep waking up early in the morning. At 7 or 8, the sun hasn't quite come up, and the little valley I live in is still damp with dew and bustling with snails (inasmuch as snails can bustle). If I'm lucky, I get to watch the sun peek over the hills and flood the garden and my bedroom with warm yellow light. It's brilliant. I've never been a morning person, but if I were lucky enough to spend all my mornings lounging around with a cup of coffee and watching the sun come up, I think I could become one.