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Geneva rings

I decided to walk from work to the pub, as I had plenty of time and it was a good chance to let my mind wander with my legs. The night was dark, the Autumn air fresh from the recent rain which waited quietly on the road, reflecting the street lights.

As I branched off from my regular commuting path between work and home onto the back roads towards the pub, my mind began to recall moments from these places I passed. Like the rings in a tree trunk, my memories have been layered into Geneva over the past seven years of living here - even longer before with my volunteering work. These memories were clear, but were more like a series of independent short films than one long feature. There was no chronological sequence, more a collection of memories of times with friends, explorations in a new city, itself layered with the Global, the European, the Swiss, and the Genevois aspects that have all imprinted themselves on this place and in my mind.

Yet I find that many of the memories are no longer relevant to now, as friends, neighbours, even entire workplaces have packed up and gone. Geneva is like a revolving door, where people come and go, often for a short time, sometimes longer. My seven years here is getting on the longer end in the Geneva yard-stick.

It makes me wonder, how many more layers of memories are there left for me in Geneva? Am I nearing the end of my natural time here, or are there many more seasons to experience?

I did not plan to come to Geneva, much the same way that a seed does not plan to land where it does. But on it grows and does the best it can. Whether my roots go deeper into this place, or I set my seeds to the wind to grow again in another place, I don't yet know.

For now I'll have a beer and enjoy this moment with my friend.

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roddles
roddles

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