Today.
I woke up at 8am. Last night was short. I remember walking back to my B & B in the company of three other people. We were arguing on everything. We parted. It must have been 2am.
Today has its own memories. People hug and kiss and cry and promise to meet again next year. Hay Festival is the Mecca of minds. People still want to make the pilgrimage again.
I remember when I was a little boy and we had this small black and white TV perched on a bookshelf crammed in a corner of our dining room watching Mr Ronnie Corbett's Small Talk. I happened to see the legendary comedian sitting in the Green Room today. I wanted to rush to him but he was already surrounded by a lot of other people. One minute they were attentively listening to him, the next, they raptured into laughter.
I sat in the front row listening to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talk about her latest novel, Half of a Yellow Sun while Jon Savage discussed his brick thick thesis on adolescence, Teenage.
Activity on the site has mellowed.
Did I fancy a girl? No...
I was too consumed in my work
to notice, I carry with me memories,
a part of the larger experience.
The laptop battery is running low,
It's time to sign off and carry
with me books and moments etched
in the belly of my mind.
