Raf's Travel Diaries

The fog is thick, the cold air burns my cheeks. Birds sing shyly as day breaks. A faint siren can be heard in the distance. A few cabs, a couple of newspaper vans, a homeless in a sleeping bag on the walkway, a drunk sitting on the front stairs of a house, head between his hands, gathering strength to walk home. A gray-haired street cleaner in a yellow jacket greets me as I go by. I take a left off the main street and follow the road, no short cut through the housing plans at this time. I fish my keys from a pocket in my backpack and let myself in. The elevator is broken, the landlord says it'll be fixed by next week. I take the stairs. 1 floor, 2 floors, 3 floors, 4 floors. The main door makes a loud sound as I unlock it. I'm home. I'm tired. I'm full. I go to bed. Raf