time slips through my fingers as i peruse the FT at the office, our famous skyline symbolic now of commerce disrupted. returning to my apartment i quench my sudden thirst for home by drinking in images of yellow umbrellas, dreams written out on scraps of cardboard. my tea fades from amber to blond as i sip the night away. for weeks i listened to news of the impending protests with calculated indifference. what was the point in caring about a city i no longer inhabited, a place i’d yearned for years to flee? but the heart isn't bounded by time or geography any more than a sea of iPhones glowing in the ominous darkness. home is worth fighting for.