Monday, April 04, 2005

Patience test

“Where are you from?”
“Now that you ask, I am half German, half Turkish….”
“But where have you lived?”
“Mainly in Turkey…”
“Where is your home?”
“I have no home”
“No no.. Liar... You must have a home”
“You don’t want to admit it yourself; you have a home and don’t want to admit it… So you are lying”
“Look, some people are lucky; they have a place they can call home. I am unlucky.”
“Noo… You are lying... You do not want to tell your home…”

My face changes, and at last he realizes he is in a minefield...

He leaves.
I light a cigarette, and shake my head.

Home is where my family is. Home is no place. Home is where I can smell my family. Home is where my brother throws a hardcover book on my head on a Sunday at eight am. Home is no place. Home is air. Air close to my bloodline.

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