Species on the edge of its extinction. Almost 140 years old. Survived long enough to pass on the knowledge set of one century to the next. My first memory of spotting a typewriter was at my maternal grandfather's small shop in our native town back in India. Must have been the early 1980s. The whole space resonated with hard clicking sounds. Sounds strongly etched in childhood memories. Those were the times when paper and its carbon copies were still heavily used to write official documents and letters. 

Oh you soul...Oh you seeker....why thy spirit flies so high? Why float like a hippie in these far off foreign lands? Why be a restless nomad? Why break the roots? Come back!.....But come back to where? Come back to your home, to your roots! But which home..which roots? Can you ever come back to your home...to your roots once you leave? And is that state not defined by space, time, energy, mind and matter? And if none of these entities remain constant then is it even possible to ever come back? So why even this strong desire to come back?