The day finally came. Today is my last day at the Washington Center.

I was waiting for the metro the other day. I looked across the railways and I saw many people –- some of them were reading, others listening to music or just standing there, all of them expecting the arrival of the transport that would take them home. Suddenly, the train arrives. I can't see them anymore. Then, it leaves. There's no one there; they’re all gone.

Every trip has a destination and all experiences a lesson – that´s another thing this amazing adventure has taught me.

It's a strange feeling, that sense of anticipation when you feel nervous and excited, but not really sure why — that’s the way I felt last Thursday.

We are one, but we are not the same –- I've been thinking about that phrase a lot since last week. Let me tell you why.   Hector leans on Washington's Monument.  

Thinking about home sometimes becomes harder than you'd imagine. It's like a dream where you can see all these great things but you can't touch them, feel them, smell them… It's just a part of a different reality, one that resides in your head and your heart but that is no longer present.  

Thirteen is not a bad luck number after all. In just three days I managed to turn that belief all the way around. Let me tell you the story one by one.

I have been reading a book about philosophy. In it, the author refers to a different writer called Alasdair MacIntyre who stated that humans are storytelling beings. He also said that the question of our own existence can only be answered by thinking about our past and all the stories that we can find ourselves a part of. All of that got me thinking of every memory that I've been writing about and the transcendence of them in my future.

Last week was full of great experiences.

“Doors opening, step back to allow customers to enter. When boarding, please move to the center of the car”. It seems such a natural tone now — that familiar voice of the robot lady indicating it was time to get off the metro.