Slow days, rain, and motivation

It is still yet to snow here in Yerevan, though there has been more rain as of late. We sat on a rocking chair on the porch, in the garden, sheltered from the rooftop above as the rain continued to fall around. Wrapped up in coats and with tea in our hands, we talked on the oddity of trees. The end times of humanity, and the complexities of life and whether any of it was actually real. Days like these certainly don't feel all that real. Slow, no momentum to them. Hours pass by still. A comfort surrounded by the blur of fog and rain that surrounds the area. Old Soviet era decayed buildings stand around, gardens full of death as winter barely rages on. I want that snow, but it just won't come. I don't mind these slow days, though. There's something about slower feeling days that just feels right, something that feels as if I have the time to relax and focus on something I feel for. Lately, that has been getting back into drawing, something I have neglected these past few months due to the chaos of travelling and the holidays. My motivation is strong. Opportunity seems to be everywhere and patient, I feel I can take my time for once.

Evenings are spent getting back into anime, no longer running through the cold night streets of Yerevan and its surrounding towns. No longer racing to catch a taxi at an affordable price for the hour long trip back home. No longer impatiently waiting for the insanely cramped bus that holds no additional seating areas, people crammed together like meat thrown into a grinder. Sometimes this difference in pacing throughout the weeks is nice, other times I feel the love in sitting around inside, eating good food, drinking coffee, and enjoying little bits of fresh air, whether from sitting out or just remaining indoors with the window open. Sounds of a nearby school are heard during the day, the joy of children in a language I still can't understand. After, the remains of a football field can be seen in the distance, coated-up people sometimes occupy the space.

New socks arrived, and sweaters hug the torso loosely. It's that part of winter where things just feel fine. That time isn't passing by super fast, that the year has just started with plenty of time to get moving. There's no rush to it, there doesn't need to be. As long as there's some movement of some sort, a content in the heart. I guess that's all that truly matters. Progress of any sort counts. And the speed at which it's obtained doesn't really mean anything, just a gamification of life that isn't necessary. Life in Armenia feels this way in general. That life can be lived with the realisation that there's tomorrow. As long as the present is enjoyed, and even if it isn't, there's room for something to be different if you really want it, and if you don't: does that really matter?

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