worky work work. No more India. A dream for the future. when staying in one place I try to separate from my skin. the same job the routine the people the smells what I place beneath my finger tips. I blame it on my age I guess. comfort being comfortable settling breathing in and out. in…out. the matrix. the running. being stuck in a world between many worlds. the room on the other side of the door that I can’t seem to open.