Moving, again. Again a new town, new ways, a new country. New customs, a new daily routine. New people, a new social environment. Different weather, different food. A new flat, that I will get used to. And in the current situation, first and foremost: two weeks of quarantine, two weeks alone with my thoughts. All chosen by myself and first-world-problems. But upon arrival, there is still always a bit of melancholy and desire for the home and the familiar.
What is the best that can happen to me in such a situation? When a new classmate, who does not even know me yet, in a jolly mood, light-hearted and uncomplicated approaches me and offers her help, with whatever I potentially could use some help for. She, who picks me up late in the evening, without the need of asking her, from the train station and walks me to my new place. Not only because of the logistics, but more for morality that was a great support. And maybe, it is the begin of a friendship.