I have this will in me… this desire to write something. Just pouring out my thoughts and feelings onto paper, however I also have almost no time to do it and I do mean “almost”.
I’m in a foreign country mostly by myself, starting to feel homesick… a sort of melacholic nostalgia sets in and I find myself missing some people, my cat, my home, my bed… and yet that is not all that I miss. I also miss a good deep conversation. I miss a soft touch, the intricate smell of intimacy, the blissful sense of company, the sweet taste of a kiss.
One would think I’m coming down with a bad case of “the blues”, but alas, it is not. I’m just writing about it. I do miss everything and yet I’m not sad. If something, I’m hopefull. I do enjoy my own company and solitude, but surely that can’t be all there is to life.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings and what all tomorrows will bring.