I know, sometimes

I like to ride in trains. I like to watch people.
The same way I like to send you these letters, K. I know you are my single reader now, and that is fine by me.
I enjoy having a line of communication with you. It is not direct, it is not a conversation. And yet, it is what we have.
There are so many things I wish I could tell you. About the people I meet every day. The desires I see evaporate in their faces as time goes by.
Once, I was able to make a joke in German to an older man in the train.
Another time, I was able to understand (with some degree of difficulty) instructions on how to get somewhere in Dutch. I got there, after asking time and time again how to.
I am damned to wander around so many places. I have still yet to find a house I can call home.
Home.
Did you know, K, there is a word in Dutch, thuishoren? It means to listen to a house, where you hear your home calling you. But you know this. So I shouldn't explain it to you. Just to myself.
I have decided that this is my new favorite word in Dutch. A language that is fascinating and foreign and desirable to me, like waves crashing over each other endlessly. I came down from the mountain to embrace the call of the sea. The open wilderness.
What joy does the unknown bring, truly. Sometimes I wish I could speak to you. Your mind still remains, to me, as one of the best discoveries I will ever make.
Soms mis ik je. A veces te extraño más de lo que pueden decir mis palabras.