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Waiting in Paris

I await for my flight in Paris, aware that when I got the flu almost 2 weeks back now, I fell away from updating this blog. 
I had a good farewell in the Khasi Hills, and felt kind of heartbroken to leave my good friends. Some old, I perhaps will not see again. Some young, who hugged me tight, knowing they will be older, wiser, and different when I return.
I had a lovely brief visit with my friend Schuy in Morocco. I spent just enough time to hunger to return to those greening hills, tightly packed little multicultural towns, delicious food and Roman ruins. 
And now here I sit, trying to ponder all that has come of my trip, to remember the snow and cold that will greet me after seeing spring in the Moroccan countryside, in the flowering trees of the Khasi Hills. I will miss the freedom to eat with others so easily—eating at people's houses, eating out in restaurants has all be so easy. 
I found this poem, and love it's message:
For the TravelerEvery time you leave home,
Another road…

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