I feel not a morsel of remorse anymore. The metal taste is lost, the stench of death has evaporated. And the silence that surrounded some fragmented pieces of memory has been replaced by the silence of forgetting. I realised that I am capable of letting go.

I have been uprooted and relocated. It confuses me whether I ever had a home, whether I ever belonged anywhere. It unsettles me whether I can, ever, in my lifetime, belong, somewhere.

It is difficult to have both wings and roots at the same time. But what if you realise that you have neither? neither wings, nor roots, just an illusion of both?