There is a gap. Of course there is. I’ve forgotten the way it feels, how it used to feel, and what the circumstances were. The daily humidity, an open window on the thirty-fifth floor, an Asian city bustling down there somewhere, noisy and awake twenty-four-seven. A city that wasn’t always a home but now is. When I think about the details, my body aches. I miss it all too much now. I always miss things in retrospect but isn’t that the definition of it itself? Moving back slowed everything down; the pace of my life, the noises around me. I still haven’t gotten used to this city. I never say that I live in Prague. It’s always one thing or the other, usually something else. It has been four years and life is different once again, definitely better than it’s ever been. But I am restless and I am afraid how much it will come across in my words. I am easily bored, is that okay? I no longer pine for what could have been because I realised how utterly bad it would have been for me, had it all turned out the way I wanted. And I think that kind of a realisation takes guts.