I’m becoming very familiar with a pen and paper,
With the stack of undeveloped film on my desk,
With melted gum,
With the pages of my books,
With Senegal’s heavy sun,
With quick showers, and tea without milk.
I’m becoming very familiar with my own thoughts,
Now that I have nothing to distract myself from them.
I was already familiar with the feeling of discomfort, loss, confusion, and loneliness.
But I have come to realize I might be actively seeking those things out.
Only in hopes of congratulating myself later when I feel as if I’ve overcome them.
To my surprise they never truly go away.
So I am becoming familiar with the feeling of being unfamiliar.