Always searching.

This constant search for home, always remembering through little incidents and events and memories that home is not a city, but the people I truly meet in that city.

A coaster I had bought with my ex-partner back when we were living down south. 4 years ago. I like my things.

One day I will have a home again. Or, at least, I hope I will. Because loneliness in some manner makes it feel like I’m dying ever so slowly. Not really living, ergo dying.

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