December 23, 2008


Posted in Uncategorized at 8:50 pm by changisme

"Home" is an onion word to me for the past few years. Home was where I slept and where my radio and books and underwear were, when my parents and I stayed put. At that time, home was the familiar smell from the cracks of walls; it was knowing exactly where the floor creaked; it was knowing all the neighbours without knowing when and how I knew them.

Then home was where my parents were when we moved around. During that time, the structures of the walls no longer mattered, but each night, there would be similar topics over food or TV shows. I could walk to the other room, taking for granted there would be two most familiar people, completely careless about what is covering their private parts.

After that, home becomes an ambiguous word, I hesitate to Beijing or China home, because I didn’t feel like I knew either very well. I probably knew less of it when I was there than when I left. However, it is home in a way that I feel my heart enlarges whenever I go back. My heart would pump blood more strongly and I felt like spinning round and round. I felt like smiling upon the thought of people I knew.

What about Vancouver? I feel I have more of a home here than anywhere else in the world. Maybe because if I were to move here now, my life would go on without much kicking and screaming. Then how about Seattle? I have an apartment there, all my *things* are there, and there are people I care A LOT about. My life also moves on as I’m living there now… Do I have to have just one home? Is the feeling diluted otherwise?


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