And so commences a feeling of great strangeness. The moments post-class are punctuated with flashbacks to this time, 3 years ago, when I was still on way to this place, and I was myself but without everything I've now had. There is the sensation of too much life crammed into too little time. Longing as well - did I value walking to class as much as I should have, now that I won't ever do it again? Then also, the thought that school, real school in a classroom with students and teachers, for me is really over.
There is a longing to be unfinished, born of the overpowering sensation of being forced into an ending that I did not yet choose. There is the feeling of having come from somewhere, very far, and yet having barely moved at all.
It's a beautiful day today, sunshine rioting on warm green leaves, and the air heavy and still. And I don't know which thoughts to turn to.