Waiting and waiting. Fifteen minutes? An hour? Half a day?
The smell of pineapple buns, fresh egg rolls, and roasted red barbecue pork... disturbs me. They felt like an important part of growing up, but they are also hated because of the unpleasant attachments behind those memories.
Everything seems so familiar yet different. The same language, the same faces of colour. Yet, I feel like an alien.
It had only been five years. Can 1825 days completely modify a person? Does seeing different parts of the world make them change? Does realizing problem of their own culture turn them into a foreigner?
2011/04/09
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