I read a book some time back called "In a Strange Room". It was a very strange book. a hodgepodge of incidents, seemingly disjoint. A man who takes three different trips, meets strangers and sometimes friends, develops a sort of human bonding and is ultimately forced to move away. And in a most un-poetic way, my life seems to be following a similar pattern. Journeys and trips, moving from one place to the other, meeting people, becoming friends and ultimately moving away.
I am a person who loves change. I get bored with a routine. I love new things and new experiences. But somewhere, I yearn for a semblance of stability. That, I may go out every morning, fight my own battles, alone. Regardless of what the day challenges me with, atleast in the evening, I know that I will return to the sanctuary of my my home, among my family.
I have not felt this anchor-less, ever. Like a nomad, I am moving from one halt to another. Leaving behind loved ones, I travel light. Too light for my comfort. I am constantly searching. Searching for the right direction, searching for a sense of home.
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