Funny how the sounds we make as we’re leaving don’t travel with us. The slamming of a door or the way your breath catches in your throat when you can't say goodbye, they echo in this place. But it’s not funny, not at all really it’s a kind of heavy heaving sorrow that we can’t quite grasp and since we can’t take it with us- we leave it behind. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone with all of this clamor.