un-tied, uprooted
I am homesick.
It amazes me to some extent, since I really wanted to come here, wanted to the see with my own eyes the cities that many of my beloved authors and composers lived in.
I was not prepared for this sadness, this feeling of dislocation that makes me want to run back to my apartment sometimes when I step outside. I know this, I tell myself, I know what dislocation and homesickness means, and intellectually, I know I understand why I'm feeling this.
But understanding something - its causes, its symptoms - doesn't make it any easier to bear.
I miss the warm weather, bamboo leaves swaying with the breeze, the smell of mangoes and watermelons, the glare of the sun against sea water, smiles and kisses from R - the ordinary things of home.
It amazes me to some extent, since I really wanted to come here, wanted to the see with my own eyes the cities that many of my beloved authors and composers lived in.
I was not prepared for this sadness, this feeling of dislocation that makes me want to run back to my apartment sometimes when I step outside. I know this, I tell myself, I know what dislocation and homesickness means, and intellectually, I know I understand why I'm feeling this.
But understanding something - its causes, its symptoms - doesn't make it any easier to bear.
I miss the warm weather, bamboo leaves swaying with the breeze, the smell of mangoes and watermelons, the glare of the sun against sea water, smiles and kisses from R - the ordinary things of home.