Some nights, I wake up dreaming about thick green foliage, teetering between longing and loss. I think of the warm Chiang Mai sunset, the shrieking of the cicadas, the shouting of the geckos. Some nights, I long to be back at Mitharsuu.
My departure was premature. And even though I went back to say hello to Kiki, Tango and Gaga, I know they were not goodbyes. I know I have to go back at some point, like an insect burrowing the way home.
No comments:
Post a Comment