Smooth landing
as my bro humbly picks me up from the airport
and takes me to the house.
As Alex would say
beit msh beit;
a house is not a home
so I desperately
try to keep
the Lebanese energy
alive in me.
The transition is smooth.
I wake up alone
in the company of my ill self.
And I prefer not having a voice
than having one and using it
unwisely.
I contact nobody.
I haven't seen my dad and my mum doesn't know
I have arrived.
My day goes smoothly
with not much energy to do anything other
than
just exist.
My favourite.
And I have found myself at peace on similar days
like this one,
where the strengths of the self
are limited to
taking care of just the self.
An ill day
of self care.
I make soup.
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