I have been writing here these Tales From Bridge 39 for five years now.
Half a decade! I have just read the first entry I wrote while at work, two jobs ago. I wrote of how I was staying at Andy's flat until I got my bedsit sorted, of a dream I had when I ws five, about the empty office at work, and of how I was looking forward to the walk home through rainy twilight. I mentioned how later that night I was going out for a friend's birthday and helping at her exhibition the coming Sunday.
Five years later and I'm working in a call centre not unlike the one I was in back then. I am going out for the same friends birthday tomorrow night. I am trying to organize my own exhibition.
I start to regret the scarcity of entries this year. I'm not sure why... I just got bored of writing them I suppose. The same old thing every day, but that was meant to be the whole point of Bridge 39 - that it was meant to be the same old thing... The mysteries in everyday existence. Perhaps I should start writing more regularly again.
