There is this feeling of lightness. Then there is the air. Transparent. The closest to the feeling of innocence. You step on the pavement. You walk on the streets and look at the trees and the houses and you feel like if you have never been wronged. And you have never wronged. And there have never been any guilt. Neither the guilt, nor the feeling of it.

There is no emotional baggage. No weight, at least. Only the secrets of the streets. Each street, each bar, each door holds a secret. And you know it and you are part of it. Because you love the secrets of this city. Your secrets too. Your streets too.

The city where you grew up as a child. It still treats you as a child. From there the feeling of innocence. From there the sense of its secrets.

You will never be a tourist here. Does not matter if you do not come back for many many years. You will still come. You will close your eyes and know all the streets and corners. And you will remember where the moon is on the summer nights. And you will walk and see the moon over the rooftops on your left.

You will never be fully home here. Because you left it. It conserves the memory of you as a child. When you were young. And now you feel that the gravity is a little bit lesser here than in the rest of the world. And you feel light. And completely guilt-free. And you laugh, and drink wine, and do your best to keep its secrets.


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