I contemplate today under high speed fan to the sounds of Rag Bilawal hoping to keep myself in similar composed mental and spiritual state through the day.
Last day in this house and tomorrow I fly out of here and despite all the discomfort I go through I know this to be a house that someone feels most at home in and there is an unsaid sadness at this point wherein all the denizens are aware that come tomorrow this place will become empty once again.
It's the emptiness that perhaps stings the most but it's difficult to empathise seeing how the attitudes and moods of this house's residents are somehow built along lonely lines and so I say nothing at all.
Monday will have me back home with my cats and reality and I don't know if I want anything other than my cats at this point, but this is just idle talk because once I've dived back into similar waters of everyday life then that's all there is to it.
It's been a month, more than in fact.
The passage of time swift and cruel is most humbling.
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