- Mes pieds sont pointés vers l'Est
- April 19th, 2016
Il ne reste à voir dans quelle jusqu'où, exactement.
5,200 miles, or only 1,200?
Perhaps I choose to live comfortably, in a city the size of mine now, where the people are friendly and the world is homogeneous.
Or perhaps I take a deep breath and leap off a cliff, leap onto a plane, leap into a country where the only words I know are a song about the evening.
If I have children, perhaps they will grow up in a better world, as citizens of a country where they will never have to worry about paying for healthcare or university. It seems as if this is the American dream of a new generation, the dream of young adults running from what their ancestors worked so hard to fight for and build. Just as our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents moved forward as one, towards a fairytale country called America, we return to the lands of our heritage, which have been quietly cultivating a new dream while we were gone.
Perhaps I will live in a world where I have to Google Translate my grocery list.
Or, you know, perhaps I choose to stay here. Settle into a peaceful Midwestern city and build a stable life.
But where the hell's the fun in that?