I am going to leave my old house in few months. I try to take pictures of everything- the rain lilies in the balcony, the sunrise from my window
and the bookshelf in my dry balcony.
Years from now on, maybe I will walk past this house, a sharp pang in my chest. My steps will falter, my heart will race and then I will leave. Maybe because I won't want to show the new owners my face. I would be too scared of recognition, of going there as a guest. Maybe it is alright, I am used to goodbyes by now. Whatever I love I must leave sooner or later.