It all begins when you start living in a place, even for a short period. Even if you don’t want to blend with the people, to disappear in the crowd.

It’s not a matter of time. It’s a matter of trails left behind, trails of our past selves on the ones that shared with us time and feelings.

All those weeks, months, years spent in other places will keep following us, sometimes haunting at night, sometimes as nice and pleasant memories hidden in some deep corner, ready to jump in at the first leaf of autumn.

So when you leave, yes, a small piece remains there as a mark, a token for the place itself, and you will never get it back.

I will be leaving Ireland tomorrow, going back to Italy to begin a new adventure even if I still don’t have a clear idea of what it will be. I come back richer of experience, more savvy and more open minded that before.
And even so, a part of me will be missing.