Friday, February 02, 2007

On leaving


Given enough time, a building will start to feel like home. You get to know the cracks, the weak step, the sticky lock. You become chatty with the neighbours. You learn the janitor’s name. If you had to, you could find your way around in the dark. This comforts you.

Then, the restlessness comes, like it always does. Honestly, half of you was already gone.


H said...

Are you moving?

Vila H. said...

Hell, no--I love my apartment! :-) That's the union office, which I frequently spent nearly as much time in. Sometimes more.