The same road that I’ve driven every day, passing the same houses, the zebra crossing with the orange light, the pizza place at the corner, the house covered in vines on the way up the hill; all so familiar, like home yet it’s not. Every day for two months but now it’s the last time. In a few hours I’ll be sitting on a plane on my way home and it’s unlikely I’ll be back. I’m happy to leave, but also sentimental. It’s strange, this may just be some insignificant village in the German countryside, a boring little town not worth caring about, but the place has gotten to me somehow, the tiniest part of me will miss it. Goodbye.