Here I am, on a train, staring out of the window with music in my ears…
England, covered in snow, comes with a beautiful sense of melancholy, as if what you were looking at was a home far far away that you have been missing for a long time.
And that’s when you hear it. Not the Music, but the Call. The call of the road. When everything in your life is going crooked, when you miss the home you’re in because you lost too many things, it calls you.
If you answer that call once, you know you always will, for the rest of your life. All you can really hope for is that you will stop hearing the call, that you will settle. But when someone pulls the ground from beneath your feet, rest assured you will hear that call, loud and clear.
You start thinking that the life you’re in is just as good as any, so you want to find out. You somehow end up wanting to give up everything you built up.
Hopefully this time the road will be a short one, and the call will be satisfied. But who knows when it will come next?
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