I haven't quite left yet, but I already feel like a vagabond again, with the contents of my room that were here just this morning now either shipped, goodwilled, or packed in my backpack. This room no longer seems like mine now. My things no longer scattered about it but contained and ready to go, it now seems indistinguishable from any of the many guest rooms I've stayed in, not the home I've had for the last eight months, just a place I'm passing through.
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