This is what my life seems to be. Always going, leaving, coming, arriving. Place to place, always in search of another home, a nest, a place to call my own. Never satisfied, never settling.
I've lived from my luggage, I've tried to build a home with someone, I've moved out of the country, just to come back again with tail between my legs.
I've planned to buy an apartment, I've leased dozens of them.
Restless restlessness, always ready to ditch the whole goddamned place, who would need all this!? Not me, no no, not me. Always ready to go, new destination checked out.
Now it's just the time to realise, that it isn't about the walls, the floor, the scenery from the window. It isn't about the cupboards, the bathroom, the broken doorhandle that you've tried to fix so many times that it's a bit ridiculous, call the janitor already, would you?
It's about looking youself in the mirror. Really recognizing yourself. Looking at your features, the hints of little lines and wrinkles that tell you the time more than your watch, which ticks and tocks too loudly on the wall (damn second hand machinery). Seeing the ugliness that comes from nights that were a bit too long, with the wrong people, in the wrong places. Seeing the beautifulness that comes from doing good and spending time with the people that make your heart sing. That comes from laughing until you're breathless, that comes from the long walks in the bright summer night, that comes from loving the smell in the autumn air, that comes from seeing, really looking at someone, who takes your breath away and who huffs and puffs all your carefully build walls down.
It's about finding a home from yourself.
[audio: Cat Power - Don't explain]