I suppose it’s a bit like locking the door – then twisting the handle three or six times, just to check it’s binding. You know what you’ve done, but that doesn’t mean you feel it. You need something beyond the knowing of it. Something to click in the deepest part.

The ancient part.

I knew all along you were wrong for me.

It just took me this long to feel it.

Image by Joanne Piechota




I’ll know, she says, when he says – come here. The space he’ll make in the crook of his arm.

The trick, she adds, is to accept the invitation. With time, the most foreign place can feel like home.