no name for this

It’s been 2 months since I left home. It’s so weird to say “leaving home” as I realized that this term is such a complete different one from what I was used to be before. Home is where your heart is, they say. Is that for real or it’s just stupid line to feel more comfortable when they leave everything behind? The entire process of leaving is quite painful. I didn’t feel very comfortable the day I came here. I wasn’t a tourist as I knew I would stay for a long time, I didn’t feel like I belonged here as I didn’t know what to do and how to behave. I didn’t understand English!!!!!! Yesterday I was looking at Westway to the World and I found it really hard to understand some words and it was ENGLISH! English spoken by British citizens.

So the cultural shock: all the races and nationalities are in this city. I can stare for hours in the tube or in the train to the people that come or live in London. This is such an amazing show…but a sad show. In the morning you see them clinched to their Blackberries and iPhones, reading reports they printed the night before, women doing their make up, men playing stupid games on their way to work. This city is a machine. A black hole sucking feelings and energy. Quite normal, being one the world’s greatest financial and cultural landmarks.

The good part about this city is that I started writing again. Like in building up thoughts and characters I may use for future research. Relieved is the right word for the feeling I’m getting. It may look shitty but writing about writing is actually quite liberating. Somehow it makes you understand why you want to write, about what you want to write and how you want to write.

The first piece I wrote is on how to build your character and how you may become obsessed with it. As my main readers are on the British side, I will translate it and publish it in the following days. God, how liberating!