I walk slowly. At a steady pace. I am not in a rush. It smells like food, tapas. I hear conversations, but I don’t understand them. Glasses clink. I turn a corner. A big street. A loud exhaust, from left to right. Wait, flash, turn. The light turns red. It smells like coffee. Someone staggers towards me. Rubbish bins bang. A dog barks. Then silence. Step by step by step. Barks again. What is that smell? Wood, stone, plaster. What is that feeling? I am out of breath. I rummage in my bag. A key. I’m home.
