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.