six visas and ten airports later. your life an extended non-place, where did the summer go?

the fear of atrophy.

you return after almost three months and find someone had picked up all the chestnuts again and placed them one by one on the brick ledge in the courtyard, like that autumn four years ago (“are the questions answers?”). the closest you could now get to a feeling of home.

nostalgia.

you’ve been writing that letter that you never want to end. when that letter ends, everything ends.