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7 pages, Audiobook
First published February 18, 2021
As we left Primrose Hill, neither Sabine nor I spoke. It wasn’t even six o’clock but we’d somehow missed the dawn. The September morning didn’t have the poignancy of autumn; it felt overexposed and hot. I reminded myself that this reality was no more valid than the previous one. Daylight doesn’t bring more clarity than night. Sober isn’t necessarily the truer perspective. Twenty years on, I still believe that. But immersion in the mundane can be overpowering. Our Cinderella coach had turned into a pumpkin. Sabine would be ever divine whereas I was just Megan again; I couldn’t get beyond the body, the mood, the self. There was a walk, a wait, a train, a bus. As we tenderly parted ways, I tried to think, This is only the beginning – But I knew, even then, it wasn’t true.
When we were together, I kept my obsession in check – but apart, I indulged it. Not that anybody would have guessed. I didn’t talk about Sabine incessantly; I didn’t talk about her at all. Instead, I discreetly tried to be as much like her as I could. The changes were subtle, hidden behind my skin. She was there in the way I held myself, the way my muscles arranged my face, the relaxation of my vocal cords into their softest, lowest drawl.
Often I am kept awake by guilt. Yet when I truly go back into the past my perspective shifts. As I write the story down, I can see that when I tried to do what I thought I should, my attempts were doomed. How do you treat others decently when you want to become someone else? How do you live well when you yearn to burn with all your spirit in moments of wildness or freedom or excess?
Obsession with another person, in the sense of wanting to be them, is about the infinite appeal of the other, the mystery of the other – but it is also about wanting to escape the self, there’s a nihilistic element to it. Obsession more generally allows you to lose yourself. Urban existence allows for this too. In a city like London, you can have anonymity. You can be who you want to be, you can explore who you are. There is an exhilarating side to such freedom but also danger. Nightshift is set at the end of the twentieth century when social media was not yet a thing – but even now, particularly as a foreigner, a migrant, in two steps you can be off the grid, you can disappear, you can die.