There are certain moments that seem the same no matter where you go.

Sitting as the only patron of “The Thai Lounge” at the Monkey Bar as it first opens, hearing the bartender stock his bar and pour the ice, is just like sitting at Raku in DC or some little coffee shop on Las Ramblas in Barcelona as they get ready to start their days.

I sit alone inside my book and life never seems to change, peripherally.

Where I am - different, what I’m reading - different, even I as a person – different, and yet I seem to escape to a place where those things don’t matter. I listen to the music they play, the sounds they make, and lose myself to that moment. Everything becomes the same as it ever was.

Traveling so much, never growing roots strong enough to hold me to a location, these déjà vu moments and these places without time have become my neighborhood deli, my local pub, and my town hall. They give me an inner peace and keep me feeling connected to a community I have created of my own. A community of the world.

I haven’t had a home - a place with my own bed and my own couch and my own pictures - in months now. So while I sit here at “The Thai Lounge” at the Monkey Bar and listen to Coldplay on the loudspeakers and to sinks being sprayed and washed and to microwaves being opened and closed, a smile comes across my face and I slowly drift into my favorite place to be.

This is my permanent temporary home.