As I stand under the shower, I let the hot rain drop onto my figure, pounding down hard, fast, as I stand, and lapse into deep thought once again. A trance has come over me as the water echoes, lurches and forms around me, splashing to the sound of my body. Splashing around my body. Encircling me, with the pounding heat, the mist that overcomes the bathroom. And for seconds, I virtually forget that I am in the shower back home, that seems more homecoming with its smell then the foul smell of fungi that forever lingers in student bathrooms. Fungi, because the bathroom doesn’t dry properly. As I step out and scurry quickly to the room and dive into the clothes.
I look around, and see the blank, staring walls that are glaring at yet another student within its grasp. Oh the misery for these poor walls not to be occupied by the same person, yet every year a different person appears, to set its mark on this place… A continuous cycle that forms year after year, a wall that seems to have been abused by previous occupants – with scars, and marks of what previous occupants have done. Only the writer that observes can see these fine details. The pin board used for decades so it seems just as well marked with scars and freckling its body. And on the odd occasion one sees photos appear, hence making the room more welcoming. Sadly though, not all occupants of rooms will cover the pin board with pictures, and colours like that, but rather it will remain empty for an unseen period of time, until a new occupant, perhaps a kind occupant who will cover it up, and make it feel, that it belongs to the student – at least for one year.
Oh – oh, I am homeless at heart, but I have the warmth, the warmth that anyone can ask for… But not a peace that will make me home at heart. Home is where the fear is blocked by a door, and where safety comes in. That’s when you’re home at heart. Find the peace, find the joy of the inner beauties and the outside beauties…. Homeless at heart is the start of finding a home in your heart.