do you know that feeling when you reach home after a week in college or a few days from a hotel room - that feeling of being able to flop down on the couch and just sit down and stare for a while at the Boring ceiling and the Boring fan that turns at the top of your Boring room. That feeling of utter disappointment that well, you're home, fuck, and you'd rather be back in Fez or London or South Korea. With it, also comes the feeling of familiarity, of safeness, of the warmth that seeps in your skin and the softness of the mattress underneath your bones. The smell, too, maybe your mother's cooking in the kitchen, or the lavender air freshener on your bedroom wall. Its the most simplest metaphor and with the most cliche words, is the only way how i can only imagine to begin how these 6 years have been to me. That somehow i feel safe within these walls, within the lyrics and the familiarity of their voices. of happiness and realness and feeling where i belong. and i hope i really do hope, that when they come back, if they come back, and they have to stare at the Boring walls with the Boring old fan, they'd familiarise and find again with all that makes it beautiful. That, somehow, they'll realise, although Fez is the most gorgeous place on earth, the old window with the dull green curtains which overlooks the park looks pretty damn rad too. And i hope they choose to stay. I hope they choose home, too.