The word nostalgia was coined in 1668 by Johannes Hofer, originally meaning “severe homesickness” and considered to be a disease. It comes from Greek algos “pain, grief, distress” and nostos “homecoming.”
Everywhere I go, I carry the world that I saw as I wandered and wondered through life, gallivanting and meandering by turns. Invisible friends line my neural pathways. They smirk at forgotten jokes and seem at once more and less real than the people I see every day. Invisible mountains form the backdrop of this muddy scene full of goats and chickens and venders selling chapatis on the side of the road. I can almost smell the coffee brewing and hear the music being played and imagine the people draped everywhere across furniture engrossed in conversation or play or rest.
I’m not a sentimental person, but nostalgia is killer.