Supine 'til Aurora • Dan Howell

• Chapter 1 •

• "And for a moment, in which they looked into each others eyes, time stopped and nothing within the universe existed - except each other." •

• September 18th •

Blinking, I looked up from my camera screen, squinting my eyes at the bird atop the peeling, white picket fence in front of me, my index finger hovering above the shutter button, my other hand holding the camera, steadying myself. A warm glow illuminated the trees around me, beams of stricken light bleeding down against the leaves.

I moved my hand slightly toward the lens, adjusting the focus, minutely. Even the slightest of movements could scare the tiny bird away, a crunch of a twig; even the clicking of my camera could. I bit my lip in frustration.

In actual fact, I had been lying on my stomach on the grass for the past few minutes, trying to capture a picture of a robin as it hopped around the branches of a soft elm tree, not caring about how strange I might look to passers by - no, I had better things to be concerned about. The early winter wind catching on it's tender branches, the sun at it's peak time to capture it's engulfing rays in the photo too.

Adjusting my position on the scratchy grass, I looked back through the screen, pausing just a split second too long before a little boy kicked a ball over the fence, triggering the bird to jolt up into the air and fly away, batting it's delicate wings as it skirted the breeze and was out of sight a short moment later.

Annoyance prickling at the back of my neck, I turned around, and the boy gave me an indignant glance before quickly running to pick up his ball.

I guess that's the end of that photo-shoot, then.

Still slightly annoyed, I picked myself up off the browning grass, which was curling from the lack of rain, and slung my striped canvas bag up over my shoulder, and headed towards the exit of the park, my legs dragging slightly from my sleep-deprived state. This time of year always left my apartment feeling stuffy. The evenings were still warm, winter not yet upon us - although, when it arrived it did so very suddenly - and so my bedroom especially, was continuously hot, resulting in many sleepless nights.

Crossing over the cobbled road, I stopped by the nearest tram line, watching as the timer ticked painfully slowly down, estimating the time for the next tram to come along. 

This line passed by my neighborhood in Helsinki, stopping just a couple of minutes from my flat which I'd been renting out for the last 7 months or so. It was a quick and easy way to travel around, to and from work, to the market; the line went almost everywhere I needed it to.

Before this apartment, I'd stayed with my friend near my university campus. Now, I was at a small charity shop a few tram-minutes from my house - that I worked at every day except Monday, Friday and Saturday - which had enabled me to rent out this apartment.

Thankfully, I didn't wait long before the small, blue painted tram came trundling along down the metal tracks, it's wheels clicking every so often.

Admittedly, it wasn't the most glamorous way to travel, but it was convenient. I had a ticket that I renewed annually to travel on the tram for free all year. I traveled like this so often - due to the fact I was fresh out of university and rendered car-less - that it seemed silly to not invest in one; I'd certainly be spending a lot more if I hadn't.

I perched myself on one of the many free plastic seats, and pulled a book out my bag, readying myself for the upcoming 15 minute tram ride.

Pride and Prejudice was my book of choice - a book I was reading for what was most likely the 100th time this year.