Looking at this set brings back perfectly the muggy heat and sticky humidity that has grown synonymous to a Jakarta summer, yet I somehow find myself wading through trenches of nostalgia because I miss it I miss it I miss it. I miss Indonesian food and the close proximity of everything (!!! the hour long drives to get somewhere will be the death of me) and the movement and the people. I walk down the practically empty pavements of Ostend Beach and I miss the exciting mess of bodies. All we have here are farm fields and dunes and the sea, and the rough large waves can't replace the softness of strangers.

I find myself asking if it's possible to be city-sick. Forget the four walls that house me in slumber, my belongings. My home is the streets of Jakarta, my identity ingrained in the unique international lifestyle that I can't seem to find here. Maybe I didn't appreciate it when it was under my nose, maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder.

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