I woke early this morning.

The crowds of people in my apartment had departed in a blur of sweet thoughts and good wine last night. Or was it sweet wine and good thoughts; I fail to remember.

The days continue to slip me by.

One more morning waking up in a haze of pink glowing by streetlight or daybreak. I clear my eye mask from my face to let the pinkness of the walls seep into my consciousness. Rose tinted sunbeams where glasses should be. Everything in Geneva is illuminated, inspirational, incandescent. The United Nations, the colours and cultures of the people with their wide smiles and knowing eyes. Holding on to these last few precious hours here is both a vigil and a celebration. I’m not sure whether I am here nor there yet, somewhere in my mind there is golden yellow sunlight and the sandy beaches which were once my home. And will be again, before too long. Once the pink has faded.

Looking back through the photos of my trip, I realize how far I have come. It feels like ‘how far I have to return’ but really there is no going back; just collecting and going on. Just onward.

One day left at the World Health Organization, four more mornings waking up in Geneva before I return to the life formerly known as mine. These statistics hang in the air, empty numbers. Why does it feel like my heart is breaking? Everything I have ever known is there. But now I know something additional, something extra. Something I will take with me. Something which was always waiting and whispering–you don’t know me but I am missing. Not yet quite found.

The story will go on…