Today I stressed at people, swore under my breath at bad drivers, but I think I am on top of it all. Paring down, relentlessly, until on Thursday this previously fully furnished house will stand empty, all goods packed, moved or discarded.

I am running because I must, not because I want to. I put it off, but it has driven me. This phase, the transition, is unsettling. I do not want to be a traveller, I want to have travelled. Some things one can only turn away from, leave behind.

Here I am, sitting on the carpet with the keyboard on my knees. No tables, no desks, only one chair left. In 48 hours I will be an airport. Nothing is permanent. All things will pass, everything will eventually end.