A friend of mine

A friend of mine shared a song with me once.

He knew for sure I’d like it – at once and multiple times – that I’d treasure it and add it to one of my Spotify playlists.

That I’d listen to it on repeat.

At once and multiple times.

A friend of mine shared a song with me once and he knew I’d make an all-around experience out of it, of the different beats, parts, sounds, words. That I’d picture a moment of my life at once, if not multiple moments, multiple timelines of things I’d wish had happened, or hadn’t happened. That I’d sit in contemplation on one of the Underground’s filthy and dusty seats on a late night journey to north London scanning the emptiness of the middle carriage, slowly jerking my head to the top and down back to the doors, watching people chatting and laughing while hopping on and off the train and feeling heavy-hearted for no freaking good reason; or recalling when she let me down, when I tumbled to how my professional career wasn’t a fit, dreaming of becoming a rockstar, of succeeding just once. If not multiple times. That I’d stumble inside out myself feeling like a real shit because that song would awaken my beats, parts, sounds, words. He knew it would happen at once. In fact, multiple times.

A friend of mine shared a song with me once and he’d feel like a real shit – he’d feel exactly like I feel. He knew for sure he’d make an all-around experience out of it because he’d make an all-around experience of my different beats, parts, sounds, words. Of my multiple moments. During bad and good times. At once and multiple times.

He knew for sure I’d like it, the same way I knew for sure he’d be my friend.

At once and multiple times.



Jim
The Britalian Post

Do you see me?

Hey there!

I’m pleased to write this appreciation article to thank you all for reading and following The Britalian Post. If I read the metrics correctly, there have been over 2,000 views and more than 900 visitors since the very beginning. And this is awesome!

I’m kind of feeling like I’m becoming a proper blogger, like the ones who are so witty when sharing fair opinions and astonishing facts, and can have a wide reach with the audience. I’m feeling like I’m kind of popular, like I have people valuing my words – all that I present, all that I tell. I’m feeling like I can freely start chatting and many will be carefully and passionately listening. I’m feeling like I’m getting lots of e-friends I can share shit with. 

It’s like my stories are brought to life and the characters are becoming real. I can see them turning into a human shape, I can see their flesh, their movements, their expressions, their attitude, and I’m so proud I didn’t have to do anything else but writing. Damn it was that easy!

I’ve got company now. I’ve got smiles and pats on my back. I’ve got someone who pays me a visit, someone I can truly rely on.

Among many others, I start waving at them, calling their names, pointing to their direction:

‘Hey! Hey there! I’m here, do you see me?
Hey, hey do you see me?
Do…you…see…me?
Do…you…e…me?
…you…e…me?

…e-me.’

Jim
The Britalian Post

Up ↑