I am only passing through. I’m on my way to somewhere else whose name I temporarily forgot. I need a place where I can keep my coat, and a thick blanket to wrap around myself on a cold night, and maybe some conversation about the day’s petty problems and occurrences of little meaning. I might stay long enough to buy a plant, or hang a colorful picture on my wall, but no, I won’t get myself a cat or ever learn the names of my grey worried neighbors. I am a floating ship without an anchor and I sail swiftly onwards as soon as the sun elbows its way through the grumbling mass of clouds.