coming home

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang


i am home. and it is sweet, i suddenly realize. after spending some time saying hello to the walls in the traditional manner - the traditional manner being hugging them and chanting "i missed you, i missed you", i move to my room. i open the window and all my friendly neighborhood honeybees swarm in to say buzzy hellos.

i am so happy that for a while i forget that my left eye looks like a fierce tomato and feels like hell. mom insists that i'v been laid low by the evil eye. sounds very exotic and mysterious and all that, but a bit hard to believe. who would put a hex on my eye?
and anyway, i cannot understand all the attention paid to eyes. they are such small things. why would anyone notice them? i just dont get the 'windows to the soul' logic at all. i try to look alert and flattered when nice things are said about mine, but i just dont understand the logic. i prefer to look at bigger, more noticeable things. like feet. mostly feet. something freudian, i'm sure.