#Scurf182: Toying with Psychogeography or crying in new places
How writing, being, living shifts in places new, when we always have to carry our old selves aka the itinerant ways of the self
Wherever I go, away from my house (?), my station where I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time just being, I often find myself crumbling immediately at first. The first 2-3 days feel like I am a fish out of water, flung into the concrete of a freshly tarred road and now trying to find my own way through it all. It is emotional, physical, psychological. I am distorted by the vision of the world around, how it makes me feel and where I suddenly have landed almost with a thwack, as if someone forced me to make this travel.
It is after the first couple of days that I find myself, my own self, me, back in my senses. By this time I have settled in the environment around, created a psychological cocoon and possibly also attuned my senses to the place that’s accumulated itself.
