“It was a pleasure to burn” – Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
I torched my work last night.
There’s an archaic satisfaction to staring into the depths of a blazing fire that is both calming and oddly empowering. Originally the idea was that I’d use four years of university notes as food for the flames before I barbequed some actual sustenance and let the absence of academic responsibility wash over me. This may be slightly over the top. I simply wanted to burn my work and celebrate the escape.
In the end the BBQ was abandoned but the fire remained and it was oddly calming and empowering, the start of a new cycle of uncertainty and excitement.
I was oblivious to my housemates attempting to ignore the rapidly increasing smoke pouring into the house through the wide-open door, I had eyes only for the fire. The months and years of work that literally were going up in smoke, the glow of endless lectures disappearing into blissful nothingness. Something about that sporadic, chaotic rhythm of flames daring the night to reclaim its dominion is impossible to ignore. A metaphor of new starts and a phoenix rising from the ashes would probably add to the melodrama but I’ll not slump quite that far and leave that to your imagination.
Maths and psychology burning as one. It was a glorious, heat-filled sight. I’ll look the fool if I failed an exam but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Onwards and upwards. Next stop, India.