I will oblige to an unceremonial departure. Familiar bike rides, the rustling of forests, budgie songs—these things I will miss. Time, I will always miss. The forgetting of expectations, late morning beginnings.

I was wrong to say, last summer, that there was nothing in this city left for me. I believed and now I retreat. We are leaving this place, but we grow tired for it.

What we think are the least serious changes, can often be the hardest. Changes come quickly, but the changed do not change so soon.