Haven

I don't adjust well to unfamiliar cities. Alien streets hold a sense of fascination; the passing crowd captures my eye as I walk down footpaths, trying not to look completely lost. I often wonder whether I'm radiating an invisible message to those I pass -"I'm not from around here"-. Maybe.
Each step down the street takes me further away from the safety of relatively familiar surroundings, further into the alien stomach of this beast.
Silence is no friend to me right now. It's not enough though - no matter what I hear, it's artificial. The television news, sounds of people talking and laughing on the street. None of them are talking to me. I'm not here.

Eventually, I find myself at an establishment, sitting on a busy city corner.
Wandering in, I find an empty stool at the bar. And realise -that I can't remember if in my life I've ever sat drinking at the bar.
Tonight though, drinking alone, it just seemed like the place to be. It felt right.