GOING HOME

GOING HOME

I realize that when you have left a place for good

That place then lives with you forever

But, knowing that you will be going back is just...

I don’t know

I am out of words...

All the people you meet on the streets

They don’t really feel like strangers

Everything feels like home

Why do I like this place so much

I mean this is a quiet place, a remote island I would say

Things that you crave so bad are not always available

I Have to banish my fears, hold my breath facing the big waves upon the boat

just to get there

I think the paradox had to do with the fact that I spent my childhood here.

My years were spent right on these streets, the old houses and schools, the water, and the trees.

And here I am

Going back to this place, serving my country

Pursuing my dream, perhaps

One thing for sure

I do believe in something called DESTINY...