{"id":42030,"title":"Sexy as a Victorian Ankle","description":"...","content":"

\"qs8c1rir0obpkblejpwcsfs8msfckcycd48dltqk70vj1toc.jpg.jpg?w=1140&v=2\"<\/p>

<\/p>

You know those days,<\/p>

the ones that don\u2019t arrive so much as sink?<\/p>

One of those.<\/p>

It presses on the head,<\/p>

not heavy exactly,<\/p>

just thick, like walking through homemade soup.<\/p>

And all the things I could say,<\/p>

sharp things, tender things,<\/p>

I lock them away.<\/p>

For later. For never.<\/p>

Stillness?<\/p>

People call it peace.<\/p>

But don\u2019t be fooled.<\/p>

Stillness is just another way of being smothered,<\/p>

only quieter.<\/p>

So I make little movements,<\/p>

petty ones,<\/p>

pointless ones.<\/p>

Tap the keys.<\/p>

Wipe the table.<\/p>

Stretch a limb,<\/p>

then another.<\/p>

It\u2019s not ambition,<\/p>

not progress,<\/p>

it\u2019s protest.<\/p>

Proof I haven\u2019t dissolved.<\/p>

Because if I sit too long,<\/p>

I\u2019ll vanish.<\/p>

And if I vanish,<\/p>

well,<\/p>

then the day has won.<\/p>

<\/p>

\"cu7hvawf4ff4s9eka4iyaqisahqq8bjequcrrniarj1tn02b.jpg.jpg?w=1140&v=2\"<\/p>

<\/p>

Glasgow exists in the grey,<\/p>

that kind of grey that isn\u2019t empty,<\/p>

still hanging about.<\/p>

And then,<\/p>

all this greenery moving at the edges,<\/p>

a restless chorus,<\/p>

refusing to match the sky.<\/p>

I catch myself in the reflection,<\/p>

eyes lowered, lips half-parted,<\/p>

like prayer,<\/p>

like someone trying to steady themselves<\/p>

with words.<\/p>

The train jolts, the leaves keep rushing,<\/p>

the city holds its grey,<\/p>

and I sit there<\/p>

caught between two stillnesses:<\/p>

the page in my hands<\/p>

and the world rushing by.<\/p>

<\/p>

<\/p>

\"0sheqjn2movrmda3x7cfqucukou1wfagxiyhs4j5hy7fobw4.jpg.jpg?w=1140&v=2\"<\/p>

<\/p>

I was too early,<\/p>

which is the most dangerous thing.<\/p>

So I dawdled myself into lateness,<\/p>

rocked gently by the false promise<\/p>

of timeliness,<\/p>

and by gossip,<\/p>

fresh, hot, real-time gossip,<\/p>

the kind that feels like bread<\/p>

straight from the oven.<\/p>

So yes,<\/p>

I arrived unfashionably late.<\/p>

not sweeping-entrance late,<\/p>

just the kind where<\/p>

you apologise twice<\/p>

before you\u2019ve even sat down.<\/p>

And what ring of hell is this,<\/p>

second-hand adverts,<\/p>

crackling through phone speakers,<\/p>

selling me things I already regret not wanting?<\/p>

I tell myself I\u2019m growing,<\/p>

maturing,<\/p>

ripening like fruit.<\/p>

But then I look down and<\/p>

I still want to roll up my trousers,<\/p>

still think,<\/p>

in some dusty, romantic way,<\/p>

that nothing beats the scandal<\/p>

of a Victorian ankle.<\/p>

It\u2019s ridiculous, isn\u2019t it?<\/p>

This seriousness of trying to grow up, when the child in you<\/p>

keeps tugging at your hem.<\/p>","urlTitle":"sexy-as-a-victorian-ankle","url":"\/blog\/sexy-as-a-victorian-ankle\/","editListUrl":"\/my-blogs","editUrl":"\/my-blogs\/edit\/sexy-as-a-victorian-ankle\/","fullUrl":"https:\/\/lostcampitos.com\/blog\/sexy-as-a-victorian-ankle\/","featured":false,"published":true,"showOnSitemap":true,"hidden":false,"visibility":null,"createdAt":1724625049,"updatedAt":1760296981,"publishedAt":1760296980,"lastReadAt":null,"division":{"id":209850,"name":"Lost Campitos"},"tags":[{"id":2886,"code":"matteo","name":"Matteo","url":"\/blog\/tagged\/matteo\/"}],"metaImage":{"original":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/d42pk0theiewbibctdcjlx0zymwlahgkxsx1woqcyrmigxkg.jpeg","thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/d42pk0theiewbibctdcjlx0zymwlahgkxsx1woqcyrmigxkg.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/d42pk0theiewbibctdcjlx0zymwlahgkxsx1woqcyrmigxkg.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"metaTitle":"","metaDescription":"","keyPhraseCampaignId":null,"series":[],"similarReads":[{"id":24851,"title":"Love","url":"\/blog\/love\/","urlTitle":"love","division":209850,"description":"Artist Matteo Delred and writer Rebecca Mar\u00eda reflect on love. Exploring different types of love, as defined by the Ancient Greeks.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":24941,"title":"Catching On the Fly","url":"\/blog\/catching-on-the-fly\/","urlTitle":"catching-on-the-fly","division":209850,"description":"Writer, Rebecca W Morris, and Photographer, Matteo Delred, capture thoughts and images at the train stops from Jerez de la Frontera to Cadiz on the Cercanias trainline. For each stop, one piece of writing is written and one photo is chosen. Seeing the same things they\u2019d seen so many times, but with new eyes.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":25084,"title":"Listening To the Birdsong From My Caged Window","url":"\/blog\/listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window\/","urlTitle":"listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window","division":209850,"description":"Matteo Delred and Rebecca W Morris capture the urban melancholy of being separated from the natural world through poetry and photography.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0}],"labels":[]}