It has been four months now that I am back in my beloved south. “South”.
Munich is the southest I can go if I want to remain in Germany, and the northest I would go if I wanted to live “up in the north, in Germany”. Full stop. It took me years to understand it. It took me to grow old to learn my geographical limits. What place, what climate, what ray of light makes me happy? And that it matters in the first place.
Now that I know, I will hold on to it dearly. Why force myself to live somewhere that is against my nature? Why make my body have that kind of fight everyday? In fact, my limits of south do remain underchallenged with Munich, but it’ll do for now.
For Munich has one unique offer to me: my history. It has my friends from the university, it has the streets, the cafés, the bookshops, the trees in the parks, the beers in the beer gardens that had been a part of my life. It has my memories that are scattered on its corners. It took me years to understand that it matters. It took me to leave it to understand that I would miss it. My southern Munich is not south enough, but it’ll do.It holds my history, and I am holding on to it dearly. It makes me feel I live and I have a past.
The first snow of the year has already fallen. Soon the streets will be all white, the air will be ice cold and it will make me shiver to my bone.So much for my south.
Then, I will rush into a cafe to meet my good old friend, and we will talk about the past days. It will be warm again; inside of me.
