Love that never fades

It's been a while, a while approaching fifteen years. So much has happened, so much I've experienced. A lot's been forgotten, a lot crooked, a lot has gone amiss.

But there were good days, yeah, frankly, most of them were good. And the faith that there would be some even better ones, that faith kept me going and does until now.

Yet here I come, back for a week, with feelings that went unnoticed for ages. This is my city, I proclaim, not even being there yet, just imagining the high street with its bars and shops, with its preserved intangible atmosphere, unseen and unfelt by strangers, imagining the parks and backstreets with genius loci untouched by time passing by.

Do I belong here? I keep questioning myself; and I have no means to tell. I suppose. Or suppose not; I've lived in so many places, so many apartments which I called home that pointing at this one as the real one seems creepy. It has to grow on me, and even if it does, I'll go back to my current home in seven days and I might keep looking for a new one again all over again. A constant wanderer, a constant nomad fueled by craving to seek beauty wherever I move.

My city. My love that never fades but unceasingly calls for being apart to excite. Until I'm back and for a moment I stop in a silent embrace with this centre of my universe that once shaped me into what I still am today.