As much as I tried to use this blog to get through living in an alien space, to reconcile my bare feet with the brick and steel surrounding me, to see through it to the glimpses of nature behind the grey, I’ve found my creativity bound by the concrete that surrounds me. I can see the beauty of the soaring skyscrapers and loved the heterogeneous bustle of the city during the Olympics, but it still doesn’t feel like home.
And home is what I want and what I need.
But, as the new moon shows itself with the brightest silver against the blackest night, I see a light before me. This barefoot African is surrounded by boxes and moving to Hertfordshire. While Africa may be home no longer, I feel hope that my bare toes will sink into the earth once more.