It's a warm afternoon, and I'm covered with dust from all the packing. I'm sitting here in a corner examining the shape of my room currently. Watching it as it seems to get clearer, yet emptier. Reminds me of how I felt one day early in July when I was sitting on this very bed with this very blanket and wondering to myself where I was and what would happen to me next. I just had shifted to this room, and I felt like I had accomplished something, and though I was alone and I was scared I was also excited, with the prospect of this new life of mine. And today, I'm moving out. My time here is complete. This room has been lived in, and life on this street is now over. The stray dogs won't run to greet me any more, and I won't feel the feeling of independence that started from these very streets and these very localities as I learnt to live by myself and take care of my needs. I will never get that chance to grow again. I will never again get to transit from dependent to semi-independent. But I do have another positive feeling inside of me- that this experience too will be a new one, and I will learn again, and I will grow another way. This room has been mine and mine alone and now I will move to another room, and I wonder what turn life will take there?