This is a word which has been haunting me ever since I came to know of it. The power of it extends much beyond what it says, it goes out to show how much a single word can accomplish, its eerie capacity to haunt you and a breathtaking ability to hound you.
Is it in the exotic tenor of its sound, the way you have to twist to get it right? Or is it in the roundness of its pronunciation, or the newness it brings to my palate of words. Wait, it might be the far reaching meaning it conveys, or the ring of aloofness it has to it. No, it is melancholic strand in it which resonates with my own or the profound bearing it possesses.
The grief for the lost places can be only experienced and never be explained. The grief increases every single day and the weight it carries will eventually pull you down one day. That which you had, and lost is a symbol of the distance you have come to. Not necessarily good or bad but merely something to remind of what has been successfully lost, dismantled and never to be regained again.
How does one get back to a home that never was, never ever existed and never will. It takes a lifetime to get over this one and then you realize that it takes more than that, a lot more.