Its been awhile since shes been gone. I think I am ok. I mean this is not the first time someone came and left, it isn’t the last time either. My life is beginning to feel like an airport, planes landing and taking off, a series of perpetual reunions and goodbyes. Never being still enough for me to gather myself and try to make sense of it all. Trying to define myself without the chaos. How do I ever know myself when the very thing that is most definitive about me is so transient and fleeting. Never lasting long enough for me to make a home of it and yet this mayhem this action is my home. It is difficult when your home is a verb, always-in-motion the dust gathered from all over an intersection. When you pause it, it loses all meaning, yet together in motion this layover this transit terminal is my home.

27th September 2019

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