A couple of years ago I was in a car with a beautiful woman, headed up the hills towards a cabin that our friends had rented out. Her boyfriend was sitting in the front with her, but we were the only ones talking. I had to kill my shadow recently, I explained to her. It hurt but it was good for me.
"I think there must be something that shows through my face somehow, sometimes, saying something like: I am not rooted in this place. Would you take me away from here?"
there's something that feels so soft about this sentence. like a small part of you, and many others, forces its way out (as everything does) -- asking to be seen, quietly and without hope.