could not think of any other, more appropriate title for the post.
that was the feeling i got last week, when i was back home - home, where i grew up as a child.
this is the house my father built!
house where i grew up.
we moved upstairs when the first floor was built and since then, the ground floor was occupied by tenants.
now, after my sister moved in to the ground floor, i visited the place and spent the night there.
a flood of memories of my very early childhood made me realize that it has been many years since then.
it sounds illogical and impossible now - but one such clear memory was my crawling through the window.
i distinctly remember me going through one of the windows that had a slightly larger gap.
but now, looking at it, looked impossible.
the original number was 4A. then it became 14. another round of renumbering, it became 17.
that is what i have been using as my permanent address in all official documents in the last few years.
but the number had changed again - to 14!