I feel as though I can't write until I have my own apartment again. There's a part of me I reserve for private places. I need privacy. I need solitude. Even if a thousand noises rise up around me, thump and bump at all sides, it doesn't matter if a particular space is mine. It gives me an excuse to be free with myself, to take off my mask of intellect and strip myself of expectation. I'm slow to know how I feel. I need places, physical places, where I can explore my internal landscape unencumbered.