As the tears drop out onto the page i wonder. Analysis of this being a good or bad decision? Three days left in India, then transit for over two. Friends and family waiting on the platform as the train pulls into Durham City, the exact location from where all of this started. Drip drip drop. The sorrow of leaving this exotic freedom behind, but the elation of seeing loved ones. Split, splatter, drip drop. Organs are seventy thirty.
No more worries of disease, earthquakes or being tsunami’d away, but so much wonder to miss. Returning to England will take me over, blending again once more into nothingness. The brown will fade to white, the small to not and wild adventure replaced by routine, patterns and the normality of staying put.
Whenever i have professed to have changed, to keep Asia inside of me i have failed. This time i am not kidding myself that all i have learned i will carry. It’s impossible. See how i feel in a week, once the greetings are over. Sure to be floored, lost, splattered until i can connect the pieces, join some fragments and build something from the last eight months. To find a way to re-form, all chicken nugget like.