The traveling I have done in the past month has been an amazing gift. It has given me so much ecstasy and joy. But as I move to the second month of my vacation, things are taking a turn. Seriously, I am so tired of moving. I just want to lay my luggages down, take all my clothes out and finally put it in a closet that I call mine. I just want to lie in a bed which is not suit for a guest, but a bed that is mine. I want to drink morning coffee from my own cup. I want to sit on the sofa, in front of the TV, and stay there the whole day without thinking about the time I’m wasting, time that could have been spent better outside sitting on London’s beautiful parks. Why am I having a difficult time liking it here? I try so hard to appreciate all the beautiful landscapes, buildings, streets that I feel bad because London is such a lovely city. Maybe the timing isn’t right. I’m just so tired from all the traveling. Seeing new places has bored me, that I just want to go home.
But where is home?