I miss staying here, and that’s a big chunk of the problem.

Even though this area does not offer much, I cannot help but miss it.
I miss the quiet flowing of months and their colours reflecting on the land.
I miss the quiet flow of time without the need to continuously rush for difficult and deeply life-impacting decisions.
I miss staying here without thinking: “oh, I will leave within x hours or n days”.

I just want to stay by myself, enjoying woods and views as I used to do when I was a stupid, naïve, lonely teenager.
But so many years have passed.

—

Jack Kerouac, “On the Road” novel, writes:

“Home in Missoula,
Home in Truckee,
Home in Opelousas,
Ain’t no home for me.
Home in old Medora,
Home in Wounded Knee,
Home in Ogallala,
Home I’ll never be”

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