Farewell

The news has arrived: I will have to leave my present house. My landlady is coming back soon, and to stay.

What a pity. She loved India. Probably, she came of the opinion that India is a place to visit, but not a place to live. And, apparently, the love of one of the greatest body artists in the world was not enough to convince her.

I will stay here at least until mid-February, hopefully I will have found something else by that date. The date of the actual moving will probably not be sad, since I will be happy about the new place. But today, it is. I look around, see the walls, the furniture, the sight from the window. I came here almost 15 months ago, and already on the first day I said "This is my new house. This is my house".
And now, the same walls, the same furniture, mean something different. They are telling to me: "Forget us. In a few days, you won't see us anymore". Why?

In those times, I only think about good things. The space. The light. The neighbours asking me if I liked the place and the country, and always being kind to me. Not everything was good. But I cannot think about what was bad right now. Only good things come to my mind. I will lose everything related to this house forever. And I can only think about the good things I will lose forever.

When I left Italy to come here, I missed nothing. I was just happy. I only thought about how beautiful the future would be. Now, I'm just sad. I only think about how beautiful the past was.

And a particular mention goes to the bike. This is also not mine, but my landlady's. It is old. It is rusty. The saddle has a hole exposing the inner sponge, so, when it rains, the sponge soaks and when I sit my bum gets wet. It makes all sorts of strange noises when pedalling. It forced me to plug leaks 10 times. And, yet, I grew so fond of it. It is freedom of movement. It is rewarding. It gives me power, strength. I can reach faraway places (well, never more than 30 km) with my own legs, thanks to this little old rusty piece of iron.

I am still here, but it is already time for farewell, a few days in advance. Farewell, my beautiful house in Amsterdam East. Farewell, rusty old Gazelle bike. I will miss you, sorely. You entered my life, deeply. And now you are parting, and your place inside me will be empty. And it hurts.

If I feel so much sorrow for such unimportant details, it means that there are no bigger worries.
It's the only positive thing I can think about now.