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I nearly set fire to something
yesterday out of laziness
lying on the floor in the little room I’d rented
on the outskirts of a city even stranger
than the one I was trying to call home.
Even the word home
carries a note of strangeness now,
as if I am only just discovering
that I never knew what it meant to begin with.
And here I hover on the edge of the almighty,
the hundred years’ divine presence
at the axis of the city,
trying to make sense of the flames
licking the periphery of my eyesight,
knowing nothing,
not even home,
is for long.
22 February 2020