The places that would make a stranger feel at home exist only in TV series, the kind that I’ve been too grown up to watch for the past thirty years. There’s no Little House on the Prairie anywhere in the world, just rented flats, mortgaged flats, and company flats with bare walls and substandard toilets, shared with... Continue Reading →

A hometown, not a home

There are times when I feel a certain fondness for my hometown even though I’ve been dreaming of leaving it for as long as I remember. Now I’m about to leave it again, for the umpteenth time.  Nostalgia doesn’t colour my vision. I see the town for what it is: a place without hope. An... Continue Reading →

On travelling

My journeys don't end in lovers meeting. My journeys don't end. I’m leaving soon, again. I've been living in a permanent liminal state for so many years that it turned from a thrill into a bother. When I go shopping, I pass people in the street and I’m envious of their lives: staying in one place and... Continue Reading →

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