"You can't take the moon, but it can take you" Michel thought, although the words felt more like it came from inside his chest. He walked on, trudging along the banks of the canal. The moon glimmered on the black water. The day had been unkind to him, he felt sick and he knew he was pale, he could feel it. His feet hurt and he took in deep long breaths ever so often. Going home was always the greatest feat of the day, he never wanted to go home. He never felt it was home he was going to, just an old house, unfinished yet old and almost derelict. He hated the pathway that lead to the house, he hated how everything on the way smelled, he hated being nervous about the neighbors' dogs that might be on the loose. But Michel knew all that did not matter, the worst thing about going home was knowing everything about going home. He knew that pathway all too well, he could get home with eyes closed. He knew exact spots along the pathway by only the smell of the air and the touch of the ground. He knew the faces of each of his neighbors' dogs and their barks. He knew everything about home, and there was nothing else to know or discover about it. This was Michel's purgatory.