Before I confuse you further with the mismatching of the post title and its beginning, I must very quickly come back. Straying, as you must be quite aware of by now, comes so very naturally to me.
So Buddha, the great Gautama. Neither am I spiritual, nor am I a regular reader of his teachings, The Dhammapada, like my father and his childhood friend. It's just that face, that radiant, reverberating pool of wisdom and serenity. Those quiet, half-closed eyes and the kind lips curled into a forever understanding smile. They are my collective refuge, from the woes of inconsiderate, loud neighbors, the downsides of staying in a ground floor apartment and the soot making its way into our lives from the nearby, always running highway. Sure, one cannot immediately find a new place and afford to go through the settling-in drama all over again, one can only hope to adapt. To the noise, the blackening doom and the growing restlessness. The face muffles it all, for a while at least.