Packing my bags again. I made this trip months before the previous one. C. told me this should be the last time I leave for awhile, but all I can think of is that I should go away more often, and for longer amounts of time.
The last week has been all about unpacking, but it was mostly what’s inside my head. My bags remain unkempt, as if in a perpetual state of moving.
I almost said, I don’t belong here anymore, although I know I still have a place. And yet it doesn’t feel the same. If leaving truly changes you, then how dangerous it is—to leave home, but also to come back.
Translated by John Stevens
Time and again
Must long for
Your old nest
Deep in the mountain.