There used to be a time when my day would start at ten in the evening and would not end until the crack of dawn... There used to be a time when even after having been up all night, I would spend my days walking the streets of Yerevan - the streets that I could not seem to get enough of. There used to be a time when Yerevan felt like a home in its most immediate sense - it's parks, its streets, the little stores and alleys, even the dust- they were all part of a home and I moved freely and with ease knowing that no matter where my day started or where it would end (and my days were known to start and end in the most ridiculously improbable places), I was still safe, at home, as if I was merely in an old room of the familiar childhood home....

My old room has long become my brother's office. It's been almost four days since I've come here and I am yet to venture out into the city. And last year I wrote:

It feels strange to be back here. I feel strange and out of place. I am filled with nostaligia and longing for the old and familiar. I feel the kind of pain that one feels when encountering a loss. I feel like I lost something important and dear. I no longer know my city and I feel strangely out of place.

This time around I know that it's no longer the change of the city, the longing for the old and familiar that's keeping me indoors. I know I have changed - and this change becomes more vivid here, in Yerevan...