Back to Cork.
Boy, oh boy, time really does fly. It’s been a month since I left, and I’ve returned to a green Ireland. Trees that were bare are now heavy with leaves, rustling with every breeze. I have dandelions in my backyard, cool. Kick at them whenever I go for a smoke.
Gone are the days when I could hear the French guy playing his guitar and singing Hallelujah. Gone are the days of playing Okami on Irish guy’s PS2. Gone are the days of hearing the really tall German guy singing and sighing in the kitchen. Gone, gone are the days when the French girl would reprimand me for skipping class.
I miss them, somehow.
I’ve returned to a blaring No Smoking sign on the kitchen door. Someone was smoking in the living room, apparently. Hey, I wasn’t around, not my business. The sign’s really annoying though. I hate those signs.
Three more weeks of bumming around, revising for exams then my time here in Ireland would be up. Everything is so ephemeral, it’s surreal. Before I can believe it, it’s gone.
