The text I sent could have gone to anyone, but I have stopped sending my random texts to people on my contact list. I put an end to my "text experiment" after I got a few worried calls from people on my contact list. "Are you okay?" they would ask. I just wanted to have a collection of different replies to texts. It was an experiment. That's hard to explain to people you hardly know. The experiment was over before it really began.
Now I send my random texts to only one person, who often sends back equally mysterious answers to my "existentialist" questions. If I write about the wind, he replies with a text about drinking in gloomy London. If I send a text about writing by the sea, he asks about "housekeeping" or something equally nonsensical. It works for both of us. We don't attempt to decipher our random thoughts. We just continue the texts, as if we have been surfing the same wave all along.
But perhaps thats not how he feels. One can never tell.
I took a long walk and felt my mind slowly begin to work in the cold. I began to think of all the things I would write down when I got home and now I can not remember what was so great about the wind or the walk.
I went to a friend's place and had lunch, then coffee, then too much coffee.
My friend insisted on me logging home one of those huge Ikea storage boxes...I don't know why I told her I wanted it. I have no place for it but it looked like it could be useful for my clothes. Now I was already regretting asking her for it. I should have just allowed her throw it away as was her original plan. I logged it all the way home avoiding people's stares on the tube. I buried myself in my book and pretended that there was nothing at all weird in a woman carrying a huge white box on the tube so late in the night. Who cares? I am free. I am a free woman. I can do as I want.
I got to the bus stop and there was only a man there. I did not know when exactly I began humming to myself but soon enough, I was humming out loud. The man looked amused but I did not really care.
The bus was empty so I just kept humming as I entered the bus. I wished I could call my friend and tell him about the emptiness of the night. I wondered if he would call.
Anytime we talk, we hardly agree on anything and anytime I am in London, we don't even try hard enough to meet. We always call each other before I arrive and after I leave... and then spend the next couple of months blaming each other for the fact that we could not meet.
Yet, I send him random texts and he calls randomly.
It is...something. Not a lot but something.