like nickles at night

i have my suitcase open, empty, sitting on the floor beside me. usually when i go home, i take my duffel bag, but this time i’m taking this suitcase.
i should have it half filled by now. i should be moving things around in it, taking things off hangers to fold them up in it. but im not. i know i’ve been afflicted with the odd reminder of Dhaka over the last few months, but somehow seeing this suitcase open, empty, sitting on the floor, it seems strange to fill it again. it’s only ever been filled once after i bought it in Gulshan and hauled it back to the flat with Nick. the last time i packed stuff in this suitcase it was to leave what i can only say was the best experience i have ever had in my life.
you think it’s weird that a suitcase gets this kind of reaction? i do. i think it’s right fucked up. but it’s still sitting there, empty and i can’t quite bring myself to put anything in it just yet.
i had it up against the wall after it was full. Bimala tried lifting it and told me i had too much stuff. she came to the airport with me when i left and i didn’t turn around one last time.
things have odd connections, odd implications.
things have an odd way of never quite leaving your mind alone.

on a completely different note…

you should take your last opportunity to throw your vote in to the mix for the Best of 604 awards hosted by Rebecca Bollwitt. if you’re heading to the awards reception, then have a good one. i’ll be OCDing my way through my room making sure i’ve packed everything four or five times.

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