Leaving

I hate packing, more so because it reminds me how much stuff I have accumulated over the years that needs to go when I move houses, localities, cities..I like to think of myself as mobile, unencumbered by mundane realities of sorting and packing your stuff and worrying about ever being able to transport so much stuff into another city. But in a way packing for me is also a task loaded with meaning..it means that I am wiping off my existence of ever having lived in that apartment..though I did live there for two years and loved every minute of it. But the moment I am out of the house, it's going to get a makeover with walls being cleaned and whitewashed, the holes made in the walls to put up photos plugged in, the dark circles left on the kitchen floor by my microwave swept clean..it's like I have never been..

Anyways, on another note it's yet to sink that I am out of this city, at least for the next couple of years..seems like I am off on one of my tours, albeit a bit lengthy this time. But soon, very soon, it'll be time to call another city my home, however metaphorically. I hate it when people leave, and yet here I am am, doing the same