piece of writing, from last time I moved

In 2009 (I think) I moved from Atsugi to Kawasaki. I was cleaning out my drawers just now and found this piece of writing I did back then.

“By the light of the street lamps, artificial moons, I peddled through the deep night’s coolness, to the 99 yen shop where I go every night to pick up vegetables and eggs for breakfast. I said to the owner, “I’m moving tomorrow.” “Ah, now I’ll be lonely,” he replied with a smile. Back on my bike, I coasted like a fight carried downstream by the strong current. Smoothly I slid past my Egyptian friend’s apartment, now dark and quiet, empty for years. How long has it been since we laughed together, and spoke of our homelands, we pilgrims, we explorers. Now zig-zagging down side streets that I’ve come to know. Yet, on the eve of my move, I feet only quiet, peace in my heart, as the memories play like reruns over and over in the back of my mind. I relish and revel in the bliss of my experiences, examining in hind site, how my choices played out. And I’ll make a new home, where I can be safe from the world.”