It's 7am on Sunday and I can't sleep. Jet lagged.
This is what home feels like when you haven't been home in a while:
The plane ride was 20 something hours, only brutal because I wanted to be done with it so badly. The sun came in through the windows. Who's sun-rise was that? It wasn't mine anymore.
When I landed in New York I wanted to hug the security guards, I was that happy.
They didn't even have my luggage, and I didn't even care.
Farber is not home and it makes me wonder,
was I ever really gone?
I'm pretty sure I went somewhere.