Existence of late has been as that of a nomad, a wanderer, for quite some time now in fact. Back now in the small room above the snack bar in Albion, hauled up for the night, but it has been days and days away, with other places to stay, never too far away. Those places we always seem to stumble across on our travels.

Home still no longer seems as such, except for a certain quick moment just before, a pop in the head, my mind rationalising itself, its place in the world, its (almost) inseparability from myself. Awaiting a friend’s return from a far off land, one found only in the peripheries of my knowledge. Plans to find a new place hang in the air, until then.

Tired, can you tell? The weekend sprawls out, with most events past that point of non-disclosure, especially at this time of night, at this sleepy hour. Goodnight.

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