This, I tell myself, may be the last time I own this view. I should savor these things now, store them in memory.
Or maybe not.
This may be the last
- spring when the runoff river flows through my parking lot, covering the channel with slimy, slippery mold.
- winter I spend roasting above the lobby, hearing and feeling the door opening and closing through my bed-attached-to-the-wall all night.
- autumn my sunlight is cut off by the south wing.
- summer I'm separated from my books.
The future is looking brighter, drier, and quieter. :)
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Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I felt way more nostalgic about leaving our last apartment/city before we moved than I ever have since.
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