Last month, George Ezra released a new album after a three-year wait, and I was possibly more excited about it than his mother was. I listened to it once, then twice, and eventually more times in a day than I can count on my finger tips. Most of his music was about touring with his band, enjoying being on the road, and eventually coming back home to unexplainable anxiety. Turns out, George and I have a similar fear of staying at home. He too feels lost in known surroundings, bored with the familiar. Though I empathised with him, I couldn’t help but smile and tell myself my troubles aren’t so out-worldly.
To suppress this urban anxiety, I decided to take some time off from work and travel to Kerala. Somewhere in the middle, I’d have to celebrate my birthday as well, but I’d be more than happy to treat it like just another day, save the sudden spike of activity on my Motorola iron lung.