Crave.

I miss Leuven, so so much.

There isn't a day that goes by without me thinking of my lovely little room in 17 Ierse Predikherenstraat.

And running in the wind in my blue tracksuit to Origin O' Leuven to get my fix of organic chocolate and hummus.

And walking up Naamsestraat to get tofu and oyster sauce from the Asian supermarket.

And getting plastic-bag burns from hurling all my grocery shopping back from Delhaize @ Heverlee.

And bringing my bound readings and a highlighter to the laundromat and (making an attempt at) reading while waiting for my laundry to be done.

And "ein warme waffle, austublieft!" choruses I'd echo each day at the stall on Dieststraat.

And running on gravel and grass in the tiny park down the hill.

And the dreary wooden doors of the auditorium.

And the gothic structures on every surface.

And my heart skipping a beat while walking in the rain to the train station to pick the visiting boyfriend up. All the while worrying about whether the banana cake I'd baked for him was cooling well by the window sill.

And the rain, oh pitter patter.

I want to be there. Be home. Be there, and not here.