Nature Calls

I slept in my sleeping bag, on the floor in the middle of my room, and it took on new dimensions. I felt like I was seeing it for what it really was: a little box of wood, brick and plaster, every inch of which I have travelled countless times, unthinking.

I'm leaving now.

Ach, this sensless fear born of routine... I'll leave the Veronia on the sill for you.


Perhaps I'll write. I like the idea that my words will travel without me, in the holds of rusted old ships and passing through the tired hands of postal workers the world over before they get to you. Okay, nature calls, haha. Bye.