At night, strange stars burn in the sky above me, and I watch them gracefully spin across the heavens. It’s warm enough that I don’t need to wrap myself in my cloak. The only comfort I receive is the moon, the same moon that I used to watch all those months ago from my window. It grows and shrinks in exactly the same way.

I walk through towns where old men glare at me from the shadows of their verandas and small children kick up the dust as they run ahead of me in the streets. I do not understand the language, and can only shake my head and smile sadly when women in the marketplace try and sell me their wares.

At night, strange stars burn in the sky above me, and I watch them gracefully spin across the heavens. Unfamiliar constellations weave their way from horizon to horizon. It used to unsettle me, when I started out, but now I am used to drawing my own patterns in the points of light.

I keep one step ahead of the past, and pray that I don’t catch the future.