I’ve reached the point in the semester when I want to be somewhere that is Else. In the south of France, there are fresh strawberries. In London, there are flowering quinces. In Portugal, gardens are being planted.  On sabbaticalhomes.com, there are houses and apartments for rent in my home city that have me in a strange state of envy, nostalgia, and something else I can’t quite pinpoint (there’s probably a German word for it). They evoke a life I never had, yet which seems like something familiar and lost, or something I meant to have and didn’t quite achieve: the views, the gardens, the accoutrements of sophisticated living, such as the glorious antique rugs in some of the houses (not compatible with cats: my rugs are decent though machine-made, but have survived various types of feline assault).

If spring would get a move on around here, I might be less restless. Is anyone else desperate for pastures new (or old)? Or are you too busy to care?

3 thoughts on “Anywhere else

  1. Same here. Spend too much time watching bbc real estate shows where people my age are retiring and buying homes in the Yorkshire dales or whatnot. So much green, so many gardens.

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