And thus he sits and darts an indifferent glance out of the window. While a bus moves him towards somewhere, a place where he will be for some days.
It is confusing. That place could have been home. However, he is certain he would be totally exile and abandoned even in a cosy space, room or whatsoever. For it would never grant an ability to live on his own, a sort of freedom and independence. Even though those loving and affectionate persons around. Who seem to be quite affected by a duty of love and taking care.
All passes by rapidly, unperceived. Just as own life. And the moment to lament upon this personal tragedy.
Oh. A simple roof and a small fire below it could have been good enough to satisfy his longing for a shelter. If it were only his own.
Alas, he did not return home. Perhaps, he shall not return for ages, until he may find it. For he has none. No spot to roam within, to feel himself and call home.
And thus his life passes by like snowflakes and frozen surrounding.
