It all seems so normal, so routine.
It's like I never left.
Yet this funny space in my heart feels... soft. And a little weak.
It's the part that already misses the laughter and madness; the chaos that is London.
Perfectly normal and no doubt lingering -
I long for that teleport machine to take me back for a cuddle and a wine...
then back here to the routine.
To the comfort of being at home:
just after I get the fix I need to stop the confusion.
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