To me, every house I have lived in, though close geographically, has seemed so much like a different world. My life begins, after a while, to resemble a series of postcards sent by different women from the same location. In the life of a migrant, time periods are measured by fleeting things such as houses, haircuts, and heartbreaks. And of course, the meals cooked and consumed, gratefully, throughout it all.
I find myself currently in a transient state, where things are shifting from dream to reality very quickly, and though the end is in sight, the journey is daunting. I have wanted to blog- have thought about it, and started to, many times- but I'm afraid I have been unsuccessful. I owe you the best- you who choose to read- and I don't want to short shift you, so I must announce my hiatus. I will return- in May.
I hope, very sincerely, to see you then.
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