The Other Day
I woke up in Leeds, the morning light spilling softly through the windows just at the crack of dawn. Bonfire Night had been electric and full of fun, and though I was still buzzing from it, I didn’t want to waste Umay’s time. So, I brushed my teeth, got ready, and headed out to the library.
I arrived and parked up at 8 a.m. Everything was still shut, but I didn’t mind — it felt like the perfect time to take a walk. The streets were quiet, almost dreamlike in their emptiness. As I wandered, I came across a graveyard — one I used to drive past every morning when I worked at the secondary school. Back then, I’d always think to myself, one day I’ll go for a walk there.
It might sound strange, but I’ve always found graveyards peaceful in a curious sort of way — not creepy, just grounding. I like being surrounded by the memories of souls who once lived here, reading the years they passed, and giving them a silent thought. I don’t call on spirits or break any rules of nature; I simply think there. It’s a quiet, reflective kind of fun — an experience that makes me feel connected to time itself.
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Pause. I have to admit — filters and AI make me feel good. They give me confidence, a way to see myself as I wish to be, without going under the knife. With them, I can film myself singing and simply living — no tears, no complaints, just confidence.
Later, I finally went inside the library — the one on Compton Road in Harehills. It was large and lively, filled with an incredible mix of people. There was a help hub assisting visitors, a table of elderly folks sipping coffee, mothers with children, and a blend of BAME communities alongside professionals in office wear.
Harehills reminded me of when I once went house-viewing there, during my second move-out attempt. It has this “Welcome to England” vibe — diverse, warm, and bustling — unlike Headingley, which feels more student-oriented, filled with people who already speak fluent English.
I spent about seven hours there, taking a couple of walking breaks in between. I stopped by two Kurdish shops and grabbed some lentil soup — my small act of self-care, trying to fix what felt like a tired heart that wasn’t pumping quite right. I could sense my body slowing down, maybe from the cholesterol, so I paired it with some grilled chicken. The chicken filled me up instantly — I had been starving all midday, almost to the point of feeling faint.
Lately, I’ve been having days where it feels as though my body is on the verge of giving up — immense pain that makes me fear something catastrophic could happen. Still, moments like today, moving through Leeds with awareness and curiosity, remind me that I’m still here, still finding meaning in the in-between spaces of life.
