My tent is in the room
rolled up in the corner
next to the guest bed

I glance behind me
the door is not locked
just like all the doors

in this hall, nineteen high
in the sky, I am a scared little bird
in a strange nest

that rocks in the wind
Inside, the air rustles softly
sensors feel what I like

to feel with my own senses:
the season, the sand and the sun
but I do not dare to go out

500 steps are too much for me, the elevator too small
I take a long shower
put on other clothes

over my anxiousness:
here I am, in your world
to see you