Friday, October 11, 2013

Do you know what does immigration mean?

Immigration.

The word itself brings the feeling of the “home” although it represent exactly the opposite.
Maybe during immigration we miss our home so much that the first word is “home” when we hear immigration.
The streets, the well-known surroundings, the people, the food, the music, the smell, the language and everything can easily be missed.
These days I think about immigration ; Not because I am all about it, but because when I left my home town, my very own country I didn’t feel like immigrating.
I put myself in a new context. I called it new life.
There are some days that I really feel strange in this city; my boyfriend seems so far away from me. But yeah, strange. I call it feeling strange.

Maybe it's the best way to manage it all . Music. Art and literature.
These days I can feel the huge rush of making art again. I think I was not born to work this way. I should be as free as a bird, like a water-color in water, that first drop that spreads in water and wants to figure out each corner of the glass. As soon as it understands there’s nothing interesting in there, it sits on the bottom of the water. Looking dirty and sad. I am that drop of water-color. Today maybe a yellow one.

Today I am sad.
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