Le Sommelier took me home from work tonight. We saw a man sleeping on the steps of the church on Pearl and Division. We both agreed that it was poetic. ...Sad. But poetic.

I find myself (again) on the brink of an existential crisis. I find myself torn between two cities; between a man I love and a city I've found a home in. Between two places to live.

On my walk to the bus stop this morning, I pondered at the irony of having to choose between two homes and seeing a man with no home, sleeping on the steps of a church.

I should feel grateful, but I am so consumed by the magnitude of this "crisis" that I feel almost nothing save anxiety. I should be ashamed. I am not.

The strength in me says that a true gypsy would find the courage to embrace a new path. I find it hard to believe that voice. But I can. And I will.

written 16.May.2009. I have since moved to my new city and daily, find myself longing for my home. This is not home yet. Obstacles appear in many forms and I have not fully nested. But I will. I always do.