when one is lost in the anonimity of america, one longs for the privileges and comforts of home. when one is drowned by the multitude of faces, of skin colors that sometimes belie the language they speak, he longs for the dialect and accent he is used to. maybe i just miss home, but now i don't know if i can live here until retirement.
and where shall i go home to? the country of my birth is still in a quagmire of difficulties which are the very reasons for my leaving. the uncertainty of its political and economic future. the astonishing disappearance of the middle class either to poverty or to nursing school. the unabashed shamelessness of an unelected, unelectable "president". the law of diminishing return cannot be less adequate in describing the state of the country i called home.
so i am an exile. waiting for things to miraculously turn around in a nation wasted by other people's greed. in the meantime, i'll savor the freedoms of disneyland and universal studios while these overweight americans beside me wallow in their own world of credit card make believe.
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