9am and on. Coffee and bread, and the noises of the village waking to a new day. Drastically different to how early city sounds. And for a few moments, feeling lost in weird flashbacks, in pondering time again, pondering different perceptions of "home" and how, or for how long they relate to places. Maybe it's wrestling with change as a general challenge. Or maybe it's just getting used to getting older, something that easily can be lost and ignored in bustling, busy days.