I’ve moved houses twice and each time I expected something much better than what we got. I learned soon enough that my imagination compared to reality was like likening the planet earth to Saturn. Fundamentally different. When we’d move in I’d hope for a different feeling. A sense of newness maybe, a feeling of an upgrade, one of unfamiliarity. I wanted to feel strange or maybe I wanted to feel like a stranger, and I did for a while, but soon (sooner than I’d like) that sense of home would creep in and every time I walked the walls of the new building it felt like I’d known it since the beginning of time.

                Few months maybe half a year into the move the new house begins to take the shape of the old. Things go back to their former positions and new additions are soon nowhere to be found. We wore it down till it fit like our skin and it made me want to scream bloody murder. I wondered and wondered how we’d taken the old position in what was still new to me. How is it still the same ? Why does it still feel the same ? I am waking up each morning to furniture that still smells new and a scenery I still can’t believe but I look around me and I can swear I was born here.

                 Sometimes I come to the conclusion that it never changes because the people in it are still the same. Sometimes I come to the conclusion that home always feels like home because home is not the building but who or what the building consists of. Other days I conclude that home is in my heart and so I carry home with me wherever I go.

                 All this conclusions though but I am here still left with wide eyes and a curious heart and it’s the least of things to say I am unsatisfied. Maybe I change so often, so often that when new becomes old it’s a sign that it’s time to go. Maybe that is why I feel all this discomfort in the comfort. Maybe that’s why the familiarity of this new building that I have so easily settled into like the skin I wear irks me. Sometimes I crave so badly to leave home behind and go some place else, but who runs from home ? that home doesn’t run after ? I want to shed this skin and grow another colored royal purple instead of light brown and see how that feels.


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Poet amongst other things

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