10:27, Baghdad, Page 63

مَقْهًى

root: ق-ه-و /noun / plural: مَقاهٍ / definition: café

I can’t help but notice that, beyond my screen, my تبغدد top is drying on the heater upside down. .

I’m normally the most unobservant person—my friends can tell you that. But there are some things, especially in times of stress, that I’ll notice to the point I question my own sanity.

For years, it’s been 10:27.

As in, I notice it always seems to be 10:27 when I check my phone or see a digital clock mid-morning. I’m sure, obviously, I see 10:26 and 10:28 just as often—but the numbers don’t register.

It’s probably because there was a point in my teenage life that I kept waking up at this precise time, opening my eyes to see 10:27 projected in red digits on my ceiling.

(I often think about buying a replacement for that projector clock. It was a gift from my sister, but didn’t stand a chance against my mum’s chaotic hoovering that dealt it its final blows.)

I’d watch those red numbers on my ceiling, enumerating the depth of my insomnia during those years, watching the time passing and feeling every second of it. I can’t relate anymore, thankfully. There I go now, ambling through dreams the minute I close my eyes.

And here I am ambling towards my second year PhD deadline, projected onto the front of my mind in red digits. Suddenly, it’s only a month away. And I have 63 pages of a running thesis draft (only half of which is acceptable to be read at the moment), and probably another 63 pages to go.

I’ve just been writing about the link between smell and memory (I promise it’s related to my topic) and I remembered a note I left in my phone on Friday morning:

I’d gotten on a train and it smelt so strongly like a café I used to frequent some time ago. I noted that down. And then I look at the time: “10:27”. I sneak a glance around to see if this is Groundhog Day or The Truman Show.

Why do I think best when my eyes are closing? It’s annoying because—despite many years of typing on laptops—I still can’t use my keyboard without looking at the keys. (I should fix that, I know.)

Maybe a little of that insomnia would help these days.

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