Another day, another park, another lamp post. Speaking of post, that’s what the office I was looking for specializes in.
I’m glad I’ve found this park. Green Park. But honestly, it’s been 3 days I want to send out these postcards and I don’t know where to go. Perhaps I’ll go and say it, despite my pride, but here I go… googlemaps and London are
a pair made in Hell. They just create more confusion together. I’m going to keep using googlemaps but I can expect to get lost numerous more times. I’m not really lost though. I know how to get back home with ease, I just can’t find that damned post office.
This weekend has been a very slow yet very satisfying one. The hostel I’m staying in, the Phoenix, is so far from the corporate, businessy, traveller-mongering hostel that Generator was for instance. If it wasn’t for this bloody dry cough I’d actually sleep really well at night. It’s kind of dirty and all, but it’s homely, I like it. It lacks pretention which is nice. It’s in a nice pub-like place. The people are nice. Anyways…
If I don’t find a place to live any time soon I’ll probably book more nights there. I’ve only got one more night, then it’s Monday and I’m on the streets again. It’s getting easier on me though. At the same time, I get this impression that the things I miss back home, the people I love, my idol, are all starting to drift away… forever!
It’s not as scary as it is unwanted. I just don’t want that to happen. But what if better things await here? Should I let go and forget everyone and live here to the fullest, get attached, change my life’s purpose? Should I at least try?
I’m sticking around that’s for sure but I think I would like to keep a foot back home. I don’t think I will be able to call this place home. When I will talk of ‘home’ I will always refer to my homeland. When I’ll come back, I probably won’t be living with Mum and Dad anymore… so that can’t be home anymore, but being near them is home enough. I am ready to start my own life. But must it be here? I’m happy here, but not as a resident, more as a visitor, a friend, a great friend, a friend that sleeps over, that gives gifts, that writes songs to, but that must obviously head back home and take care of what he has over there.
What will home turn into? Will it transform through time? Will I even notice? Only in hindsight. Will I read this one day and realize that I
was wrong, that home could be somewhere else? Will I fall in love, something unforeseen, much stronger than what I feel now?
Again. I’m happy though. I’m not settling for less than what makes me happy. So I’m keeping a foot back ‘home’.