Small things remind me i'm home. Taste of ale. Smell of garden-in-bloom. Sunset over the forests. Sound of my cumbersome, lazy accent being spoken by others. Texture of cold, thin, soft sheets. Salt and vinegar crisps. Driving on the left. That wonderful feeling when you realise that you saved some. Food that has more packaging than taste. Feeling out of place and alone. The regret that i can't be be truly independent. Feeling the age-gap and difference of opinion. Pining for college. Mediocrity and drudgery.
And i've been back for less hours than i can count with my fingers.
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