I did not take the photo

Teresa stands in the door. I walk past. She does not say bye. I do not say bye. That is the best gift I have had in a long time.

I am on the plane. I tell Goncalo I am going home. I type it fast before I can think. Now I am sitting here and the word feels too big. Where is home for me. I have not slept in the same place for two years. I have one bag. That is my whole life.

The city gets small under me. I have my camera in the locker. I do not reach for it. I always shoot the leaving. I always shoot the last light. Today I just watch.

Maybe I am tired of looking through glass.