Melancholia

And then it happened. The vague melancholia that had set in by the end of our journey turned into that travel weariness which make strange places feel aloof and hostile. From this point onwards, things were tainted: the overnight theft, the suspicious barman who seemed to have set us up, the coastal rains, the difficulty to communicate (sometimes among ourselves), the conflicting prospect of finding our lives back, everything conspired to say: this is the closing of the bracket, go back to your miserable lives, this was but a dream within a dream.