Move Along

-Apt. 524-

Sitting on the floor of my all-but-empty apartment [why didn't I think to leave a chair for tonight?] it is hard to believe that I'll be inhaling the diesel exhaust and tropical sweat of Dar in less than a week's time. 

Listening to the distorted sound of my stereo reverberating off of my walls, now utterly stripped to their institutional barrenness, it is even harder to believe that this couple hundred square feet has been my home for the last two years. 

The Orange and White Uhauls and Yellow Penskes dashing around the streets of New Haven mark the season as effectively as the robins and sparrows darting to and from their nests. 

Boxing, Prepping, Packing . . . Moving in every sense of the word.

Friends graduating. Friends scattering. 

To Cali and Chicago, Canada and Congo.

All of the Disparate Points between.

Then there is me. Off to East Africa. Again.

Change is in the air.

Come September, the Haven will different.

After Ilula, I will be different.

And life rolls on. . .