I’m on my way to Salaou to spend the next 3/4days. I love Salaou. It’s a small beach town. The place is probably the only place where I have felt  calm and at peace in years. My breathing slows down, my limbs loosen up,I have no thoughts, my brain pauses and I just sit around on the porch of my room feeling the sun,breathing the unobtrusive air and hearing sounds of leaves and birds. Believe me It’s beautiful and extremely extremely calming. Everything is at a languid lazy pace like stretched out notes of a piano lingering in the air. 
So I’m on my way by train to Salaou. I am so engrossed in reading that I suddenly realise I’m missing out on watching outside. How could I after being lucky to get the much coveted window seat. Silly me.

I watch as small towns roll by, little white houses with lawns,on cliffs,it’s a bright sunny day, green land,bright blue skies and the sea. My favourite favourite sea. Glistening turquoise blue,changing to emerald green,to a cobalt teal ,to ultramarine to Persian blue. All the shades glide by like a colour wheel. 

That’s when I realise how easily we get used to beauty. The same visuals which are awe inspiring once very soon turn to expected. Almost taken for granted. How Soon we become accustomed to that which we most desire. And yet maybe it’s just the sense of feeling at home that breeds familiarity.

Strange we are. A strange new place can become home in no time and a home of years can become an unfamiliar place with no sense of belonging. 

Either ways I’m home and yet I miss home.