I miss my old place. A lot. I will miss it more later. But then I'll start to forget about it, and this apartment I'm in now will become home.

It's amazing how adaptable we are as humans. The mechanism of memory is that we attach ourselves to something and permeate it, and the memories of others who shared that something with you, in this case, a space, the memory of those people who shared the space with you sinks into the walls.

You can't look at a photo of those walls without recalling the life that happened between them.

But then you leave, and you park in another stall and throw your garbage out in another alley and there are new walls. Today, these are someone else's walls, and their lives are in them; I'm just here. But in a week, a month, five years, they're my walls with my life in them and I'll have all but forgotten about the life I left in the old gyprock and paint.