A pigeon perches on the narrow peak of a neighbours roof. It sits, silhouetted for a moment against the pale morning sky before taking flight. I feel a strain on my heart.
Lately the walls have been getting higher, the buildings taller, the city more crowded. Home hasn't provided the sanctuary it usually offers.
I feel |panicked|rushed|pulled at|hemmed in|stretched|confined|.
Come Friday, I'm going. Daylesford calls, promising open spaces and more time (more me).
I have to hold on until then. But I feel a scream welling inside me.