I’m back home — whatever that means.
Over the years, I’ve called many places "home", some of them separated by oceans and several time zones. Each one has left its mark on me, and now, no matter where I am, there's a feeling of longing. Always missing something, somewhere.
My life feels like a collection of fragments that will never form a complete picture, because they are all far from each other. It's like a puzzle you can only glimpse one piece at a time, never the whole.
But don’t get me wrong: it’s a beautiful, big and rich puzzle. Imperfect, yes, and not without its downsides, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.