Mental wasteland. Estranged. Disparaged. Far from home. Mentally. Physically.
Thinking of the streets of Syria. Damascus really.
If the answer is simple I know it. If I know it then perhaps all that matters is that I will soon return to my home, once I have struggled here, in the heartland of Global Slavery, where the struggle for social freedom persists.
I hope to make more sense of it soon, although I must say that by merely jotting a few words I’ve almost returned completely to my senses, and moreover, my heart seems to be enjoying it.