My last night in North America. I’m sitting on Vladimiro’s top floor balcony, watching the non-existing skyline of Phoenix. The desert breeze feels amazing against my skin. I’m just wearing panties and a tanktop. And this is a uncommonly cool night. That’s how hot it is in Phoenix. In seven hours, we’re going to be picked up for the airport. If everything goes according to schedule, I will be landing in Stockholm in about 24 hours.
And for some reason, I feel terrified.
North America has been so much more than I thought it would be. I never expected to fall. I have learned so much. I’ve also lost small pieces of myself along the way.
I don’t want to leave.
I want to go home.
I’m sitting on the sixth floor balcony, letting the desert breeze run through my hair, listening to the crickets and the hum from a broken air conditioner across the street. The moon is shaped like an egg.
The palm trees sound like falling rain. The air is like a warm caress.
The life of a traveller is heart breaking. That’s just the way it has to be.
Katja Malmborg 