London! You hold me in your craw hard as I bleed. I haven't envisioned my life for a quite long while, "who I wanna be," "to whom I want my path lead," and "where the sun lies." My days were a huge ocean in which I was drowned, to find out what all life is about. That slow process of becoming, the tiny bricks matched with the size of my hands, and the poems which threw the rays of light to my room have all disappeared. The next life in London can't be set up unless I get a strong wooden table, candles, and a red comfy chair. A room of one's own, where my self flows like a river shrinks. And the day I leave you, I should probably be tired of you, to feel less in pain. You gave me life, and I gave you all had embedded deep inside my bones. We're done for a while.