Weekend afternoon of winter, wet streets rush a little rain. Wait forever sunny but the wind did not see the episodes still hear hissing bitter cold. The old bus station crowded, everyone brings suspension arm, said cheerfully. Looks like they are waiting for a ride ... a nostalgia trip truck away home ... a ride called the "return". I struggled to sit nestled in a corner, listening to the first story does not end, suddenly feeling so excited when someone asked one another, "How long have you not come home" ... Uh huh, saying that to make me vaguely heavy Huge Skin Diet!
Cold weather of winter is not orange, skin thoroughly comprehend that the cold meat iron will, gentle but restless, herded into the hearts of those that bare no name.
How long have you not come home ...
When life is too much to pass held, to think, when it weighed so exhausted, to the sheer loneliness. Crave the feeling to find a peaceful place to look for. But where peace does not come with the feeling when you press the key or injury which is a well anywhere despite looking about. It is the ...
Humans are accustomed to being away from home a long time, used to go missing parents silhouette and lack of places to store childhood memories. But that's just a false sense of moment, the period can be fixed without sacrifice is forever. Since there somewhere peaceful and safer there.
How long have you not returned to the roof, how long have not heard directly Voice of the parents of the little-known sibling gurgles and whisper poetry of rural fields. Long time so can not remember.
Weekend bus station filled with people, everyone rushed, frantically seeking a ride called the "return"; with a radiant face. This afternoon, too, though the weather turned to winter, but the joy of homecoming was enough to warm up their hearts.
As for me, I'm still struggling with the question seemed not mean anything but small tear, it is both a long and nostalgia far not measurable.
Home ... Where there is the most peaceful place I have always wanted to find the tiredness to lift off, lift off the noisy, urban gushy. Father was arrested a few puddle fish pond, in the cold but smiling father would give me a full happiness. Hat is the mother to go crabbing about cooking indenture contract, acrid, dark country location. Though brief moment, but it's the added spice I want my life every day.
But I do not gnaw weekend full of homesickness, self-talk myself that Why not arrange scheduled to be "returned". Suddenly found themselves pinned down when stung by nostalgia reasons for emotional sophistry.