10 days and not counting.
Homecoming doesn't seem too close but there's a special feeling lingering in the morning air each time I open my eyes for a new dawn. The thoughts about the troubles of everyday life can't quite enforce themselves into my thought stream yet, nor are there any troubles left here at the other edge of the world to pester my mood. My life at the moment feels like a purposeful shade of grey, in the colorless masses amidst the walls of black and white. The grey is there for the purpose of creating a base for a beam of luminiscent light. A light that I, myself have created by successfully (is there success in traveling?) voyaging to the current end of my world.
I can't help but to reflect on the events of this journey at this stage when I have lot standing behind my back, and still a lot facing me ahead. I know that the words that have been filtered into this blog are a cosmetic touch on the powdery face of this incident of travel - underneath, a rugged countenance of hardship and struggle, illuminated by a natural smile. I just haven't felt comfortable about releasing thoughts and happenings in my life that would harm my self-esteem, which is fragile enough when you're traveling abroad. These events I hold within for myself and a few important others to cherish with.
Days into hours, hours into minutes, minutes into a lifetime. You can count your days til their end but coming home is not measured in days. Coming home is the moment when you realize that you have been away.
I've been away and am quite ready to come home now.