I've changed my mind. The house in Consolacion where I dumped my hermit fantasies on has become the coke and fries upsize the mcdonald's girl offered me- No thank you. I woke up this morning strangely aware that the sun has roused earlier to wake me up and make my bed- an open tomb, and to splatter light on my face while shouting an errand in my good ear- a fit wake-up call for one who's found himself nowhere and why-less: see the house in Consolacion, take center stage and give one hell of a thinking performance.
See I've been holding off thinking out specific things escaping thinking on certain things. The result of course is no thinking at all.
Saying no to the house far away from everyone and everywhere, the house I envisioned a home for myself alone has surprisingly led me back- home. I guess Lorca was right, turtles evolve into iguanas after all, iguanas that bite those who do not dream. I like my shell though and I'm keeping it. Home isn't wherever I stash this shell anyway, it's where my feet are. All I need to do now is decide on my next address.
Happy new year earthlings.