“Me? I’m just a trav­eller,” I say. “I know that won’t exactly sat­isfy your curios­ity, but that’s all there is to say. I travel, one city to the next. Yes, there’s a rea­son. No, I don’t have a home to go to.”

I pause, there, because I do have a home of sorts — it’s just that I’m not wel­come there. Not any­more. But that’ll change some day. I want to go home more than any­thing else, of course I do, but I don’t know how just yet. There’ll be a way.

So for now, I drift, hop­ing that some­day I’ll find that way and I’ll return to the world where I belong. There’s no rush, though. I have all the time in the world.