Good days

Walking down Brixton streets...
Listening to some music. The tunes vary, I'm in a 'Guns of Brixton' moment. Well, you could assume that.
It's pretty cold, when you breathe you see part of yourself coming out of your body, making you freeze in this English weather. But people don't seem to be cold here, if a person is wearing three coats and a scarf covering the whole face you can tell for sure it's a tourist or foreigner.
The women with baby trolleys are the worse. They just go, no matter what's in front of them, so you can easily find yourself in the middle of the road with the cars.
I've already talked about the stench of the buses. Now it's worse. Much worse. It totally reeks. I'm taking the tube now, not that it smells like flowers in springtime.
I was coming home from work today, walking to Oxford Circus Stn smoking a cigarette and observing people's faces and the stores. It so feels like home, you know? Not home in a sense that I'm feeling totally comfortable, but now I kinda know where things are, as opposed to my first time on Oxford Street. Everything was new and so far away. I got lost, didn't know which side of the sidewalk I should get the bus home. So silly.
I kinda understand people more. Not totally, but more. But working with Brazilians doesn't help much, I speak Portuguese a lot.

I think it's a process, a work in progress. Adapting is not the easiest thing, as you know, but eventually it happens. You get used to so many things during your lifetime that you should know better, but the process is mainly difficult, painful one might say.
I guess I've had a good day, or been having good days to be more precise. I haven't felt like this in ages and I hope it doesn't go away. For the first time I'm feeling like part of the engine, studying, working hard for a few bucks, drinking a few pints, in a big city.
I can't live by myself just yet, but I think I'm improving. I get home tired, dying for a beer which I can't drink because the next day it's a 14-hour experience awaiting me, but it doesn't feel that bad, you know?
Only now, after almost 28 years, living in a different place for six months. Six months... Time flew, alright.
I'll get to have Sunday off. I'm totally drinking on Saturday, even if by myself.

Happy 2006.