Hwyl Fawr

Written by Haley McNiff

Photography by Aida Ebrahimi 

I fell asleep and woke up in bristolI don’t know who is sitting beside me and I hope myHead hasn’t nodded onto her shoulderBackpack full of three-for-one-pound bricks of ramenBursting lime green plastic packagingMud-dipped discount hiking boots tied to the strapsAfter a night on newsprint in the hallwayDoor unlocked to a dim room soft with stale hostel airWarmed by the quiet breaths of womenWith places to go much like this one – all bunkbedsAnd drunken hands searching in the darkFor belongings while trying not to break the spellOf elastic silence seeping into skinWindblown and reddened by gin someone else paid forBones ready for bedsprings against backOnce the clothes are drying after drinking cambrian rainLike cheap wine and street-battered feetAre freed twenty miles later to dream of the roadsThey’ll kiss until they’re silly with knowingWhat a body feels like when it sees the world for itselfTo be the first to greet the morning andPush open the window haloed in crisp welsh sunlightTo simply take it all in like sustenanceUntil full with goodbyes for the streets one just metAnd this is what I came to know beforeCardiff fell away behind me out the bus window andI fell asleep and woke up in bristol