Mr. Warrane, I miss you.

So..

I have moved into a new studio, have a quiet, nonchalant life on my own.

No more cleaning, no more coffee club, no more interruption.

It should be the day I am anticipating, for months since the day I decided to move out from college. But somehow, these longing excitement, are overwhelmed by the sorrow of leaving the college I have been staying for 3 years plus.

I woke this morning and that phrase came to me as soon as I pulled back the curtain that covers my bedroom window to reveal the Randwick racecourse, the place I used to take my exams in my undergraduate years. A sense of dark nostalgia was piqued when I inhaled the crisp air out of the window.



Then..

When I got home this evening, I was struck with it again. I was struck by my sense of foreboding, by my sudden urge to turn on my new LCD TV to ward off the quiet. It felt premature.

It was almost 7o'clock in the evening, not an uncommon hour for me to have taken my dinner back in the college days.

Once more I felt a tinge of fear. It is heading into twilight and I was a lone human traversing isolated studio, only I felt I wasn't alone.

I turned off the TV and thought deeply as I sat down, the typical phenomenon of my over-active mind going into complete overdrive when there is no other verbal traffic to interfere, and pondered why the my arrival in UNSW village necessitated I feel this sneaking sense of dread.

Was fearing staying alone an evolutionary imperative that assured me to put up a week's worth of food so I would need not to worry of starving and I was tapping into some quiescent remnant of that instinct that I no longer need having access to grocery stores, at most just once a week.

This is just the beginning..