I'm from Pakistan" said the taxi driver. "I've been in London for 28 years. This country gave me everything. It gave me a job, it gave me shelter..."
And there I was, holding my plants in my arms, surrounded by all of my belongings which fit in this car, moving houses for the forth time in 20 months. And as this stranger from the world, I think this is a beautiful city. "Look at us, we are just sharing this half an hour journey, and we are talking as if we knew each other, that's what I like about London."

I feel trapped but I feel free. I think I just discovered this city's deepest secret. "You can't leave London, if you go, you will need it, it's an addiction" he said, speaking with simple wisdom.
Loneliness just turned into contradiction. Every day that slips away is one more day I live in Heaven. I can wake up and feel I'm wasting my time, but then I have to get out of the basement 'cause the DJ is playing Bruce Springsteen, and I miss my sister, and thereafter everyone else. I call my best friend back home and he says "I'm proud of you".
I need to say it. I need to say it's hard. From all the stages I went through I am right now wondering if this adventure is worth the love I left behind. And it's fucking hard. And I find myself in tears while I write, because it's as beautiful to say this, as it is to say I'm perfectly fine. I'm alive and feel the absence in the bottom of my heart, and on my skin. I feel it on my skin. But also here, sitting on the back of the minicab, with my plants and my box of negatives, I am home.
And suddenly the world is too big. Cause I can't go back but it's hard to stay.
I thank the Universe for the fierceness.