How it feels like I am so present in my present that I, for some reason, am not able to miss my past. So unusual in me.
What a strange feeling, this lack of melancholy. It's like an empty space, a space I know fills up often and for many people and places, and yet for some reason doesn't fill up for India. So I am waiting. Waiting for the stabbing pain that I get once I finally understand that a place, and a moment, are long gone.
When it comes to London, however, things are way different. I no longer mourn over the life I once had in London since now I have set firm in my mind that someday I will go back and establish a life there, yet again; and this thought is so vibrant that makes me believe the chances are more than a simple possibility, more like a certainty - except for those times when a flashing thought pierces through my mind like a blazing arrow and I for once consider that I might never, never live in London again and then I feel myself shiver and lose my breath because such a simple thought is simply too sad for me to manage.