Monday, September 21, 2009

bottom of the barrel

He talked out of the side of his mouth. Not in a way that was sly or deceiving, just his method of talking when he was comfortable. We talked about conforming, our love lives, reentry into the United States, everything that was supposed to make me feel better, but it just made my heart hurt. It's heavy for Portugal. It awakened my deepest fears and the yearnings of my heart at the same time. So while I was just getting used to the fact that I had to keep my feet on the ground here in Liberty, I have gone back to the idea of flying elsewhere. Letting myself soar in whatever direction I desire, changing on any whim.

It makes me long for Portugal. For adventure. For Hugo. For the metro. For my castle. For the river Tejo. Sardinhas. Caracols. Miguel. Marques Pombal. Meu coração. Todas coisas Portugese.

So the roller coaster swings back down and the fight to re-assimilate starts anew. The same uphill battle to fight, back at square one.

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