A place so foreign
I’m at a place from my past, a little apartment in wels where i used to spend the better part of my rummaging adolescent years before i went on to vienna, the first place i experienced independence. My brother inherited the place and keeps the tradition of having fun around here up. It’s strange to return somewhere you might have called a home earlier in your life, seeing how it evolved, seeing what has remained the same, even finding a few artifacts you left yourself.
It’s strange treading paths you’re intimately familiar with from what seems like a life long passed. This isn’t my town anymore, this isn’t my home anymore, this isn’t my life anymore - it’s my past, way behind me, and still here to be touched, felt, smelled, heard, seen, experienced, soaking you up, bending your mind. If i wouldn’t feel like i’ve lost touch with my surroundings i might be overwhelmed, but so i’m just happy to return to a well-stocked fridge after years and that my younger brother developed a fine taste in alcoholic beverages a lot earlier than i did.