Stories of a Displaced Kind

   Houses, homes, apartments, flats, studios--call them whatever you like but they instill a sense of belonging in you. As I sit writing this blog in my empty house, a sense of despair washes over me. It always happens. Every time I move from one apartment to the other or shift to a new place, I get the same feeling. However exciting it is to move to a new place and start life anew, it is equally difficult and saddening to leave your current home. There have been so many memories attached to this house that your new space just wouldn't be capable of giving; so many things that have happened, so many secrets you've shared with your house; things that are only sacred between your home and you, the sights, the sounds, the smells .... nothing will be the same again.


   Sans furniture, amidst bare walls, in empty spaces and around dark corners, I think of the wonderful times I've spent here, of all the people whom I've met and have visited me in this house, of the most precious memories that were born here, of how life changed and how it did for the better, of how I saw life as it was across the street, in the dorms and the precious, lonely moments I've had thinking of the future -- For all that and more -- Thank you #423 ... I'll miss you more than you ever know. 


P.S house: I hope your just as nice to the next person who lives here! :)

~ Frame-less walls, an empty space,

 A thankful thought, a memory to chase.

A hundred million stories left untold,

Barren, parched, empty and cold.