Relationships are like sharks, they have to move forward otherwise they die

I spend time. Spend time on tubes, in dry cleaned suits, in chairs in offices, next to coffee cups and written agendas, among the carefully crafted bullet points on my CV. I make plans in my agenda, write cover letter after cover letter, send them out to people that are just names on websites. Trying to make a connection, or a sale, of myself. It’s been two and a half weeks, and my sense of time is as detached from reality as it has always been. I just move forward, and I realize that the quote from Woody Allen, which is on my CV “relationships are like sharks, they have to move forward otherwise they die” is not something clever that I wanted to have on there, but something which does say something about me. I detach and move on, like a surgeon. Perhaps it is out of necessity.  A person I spoke with commented by CV by saying “you’ve really managed to put a lot of experience in so far”. “Yeah, I know” I answered with a smile located somewhere between pride and worries about my constant detachment.

Two and a half weeks since the Swedish winter snow under my feets. I’ve walked cold Paris streets in between, biked in violent winds over a grey Thames. There is a sense of freedom in all this, in the meetings and new air, in the texts about British politics in world renowned newspapers, of biking through Hyde Park and having coffee in a Portuguese café with peanut bags being promoted with a picture of a half-naked model. But the cutting of so many friends and connections, of the image of so many relationships on Facebook- and Skype-aided life support should not be forgotten or discarded. It is a price I pay for the time I spend.

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