Your cold wind is calling me.

Your smell of coffee is calling me.

Your clear blue sky is waving at me.

A feeling you’ve successfully created inside of me every time I watched the tall trees with those beautiful colours of leaves; a strange yet familiar feeling, bittersweet sensation of realising that I was so far away, yet I was present.

Oh I could cry every time I think about you.

I savoured every moment whether I was waiting on a peaceful station or in a crowded one. I savoured every moment. I captured every moment with my old grey cells, not with my smart cellphone.

Are you calling me there? Can I return to you again? Can I walk on your tidily paved streets? Can I feel those cold wind on my bare face again?

I will return.