the angel opens her eyes, the confusion sets in...

It's strange how the simplest of things can bring you back to a place. Today I was looking at a picture I took of Alana and I's flat in Dhaka, and out of the corner of the picture, a drawer caught my eye. It was the drawer that the utensils were kept in. And suddenly I could feel my hand against it. I could feel the scratched wood and the way it was heavy and how it stuck about an inch after opening it. How I would pull it open just enough to stick my fingers in to grab a fork. Pineapple and dark chocolate balancing in one hand, while I groped around to curl my fingers around the utensils. Then I could smell it, the fruit, the wood, the fresh clean floors, the wind coming in the balcony door and making the curtains float and whip around themselves. I could hear the music blaring from Alana's stereo, hear her footsteps come up the stairwell, the heavy sound of the bolt sliding out of place and the scuffing of birkenstocks against cement tiles. I could feel it all. I was there, I saw and smelled and heard all of these things...these were home to me. And I am overwhelmed. all because of the drawer.