Well I'm sitting against a wall on the floor of the Hartsfield Jackson International Airport in Atlanta. This is the first time that I have been on US American soil for almost six months.
How do I feel?
I feel short. Seriously. Any given time that I walk down the street in Peru, there's a good chance that I'll be taller than about 70 percent of the people I pass. Peruvians are a short people. I am not. That was one of my first reactions to being back in the US. And as I sit here, eating my sesame bagel with plain cream cheese (the first I've had in 6 months) I find myself constantly looking around, looking at people trying to study their faces and learn about them quickly as they scurry to catch their flights. I feel as if they are strangers to me.
Not that I knew any of these people before, but now I feel as if they are really strangers to me. Almost as if I don't identify as much with them anymore. I think this is because I now am identifying myself more with Peru....I suppose not any less with the states, but enough that things look different to me. But...things look different, because I'm different.
Ésta es la belleza de La Vida.
1 comment:
if america won't take you anderson will
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