5am, I just arrive home. Six hours trip after, through the sea. Totally insane while my soulmate was complaining about what, in fact, was his idea: hilarious! What a fantastic night, no neighbours making noise, no gym opened the 24hours of the day, I slept six entire hours, not bad…But I’ve just lost the entire first morning at home.
Spending my time having breakfast and looking through the window I realized that the foundations I saw in September are now a home for a new family coming to the neighbourhood they are probably English or French, but not from here anymore. And at some point, that makes me feel hope for this place. I also see a house that has never stop changing colour since tree year ago, I guess time doesn’t forgive anyone.
The weather here seems to remember us we are in London and the truth is that we are in the middle of the sea, where we belong to. The unique thing is not changing now, are the mountain I see above my head from the eye that gives me a picture of the outside.
There was a time when we believe there was no way to escape from here, and now that we life outside this island we keep coming to our roots once again, although origins are breaking they are starching us back to the house wear we raise…it is so hard to ignore the claim.
It is a claim of your first skin, not the one you are wearing in your new life, but the one you really are, the one you were born with and it is now full of experience and the culture of a place you are forced to call home, I don’t regret calling this place my home, I am in love with lots of thing I discover here, lot of place but…I am in love with lot of people that when dead blows they eventually disappear.