It’s the fear of losing anchor.I’m quite sure my initial split of reality started twenty years ago, on the day my parents had the crazy idea of bringing a nine-year-old kid to the opposite side of the globe, one they had not a kindred soul on.
As a result, I was brought up far away from my homeland and the rest of the duality just rolled off from there.Two languages and cultures became responsible for everything I think, speak, write, and dream; I went on to have two absolutely different professions; my life alarmingly alternates between total seclusion and the bustle of a big city.
It’s almost as if my whole environment is bipolar, except I’m not.I came to the U.S. at the turn of the new millennium, as a faded photo of my.
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