These days and nights that you spend so far away from your home away from home, they must break your heart.
How lonely it must be to return, time and again, to a luxuriously sterile space that is anything but yours. Where everything reverts to being exactly as it was, every time you leave.
I can almost see you, sprawled in your usual disheveled way, on fresh, too-white sheets. I can see you watch the rain fall over a strange city, while the city you call home puts on the colours of spring.
Sleep eludes you. Peace is even harder to come by.
But remember, even in exile, that everything that you long for is exactly where you left it. And that yearning makes homecoming that much sweeter.