I found my blood and my home and I love it fiercely.
I want to capture the scent that the olive trees and firs emit when heated, and carry it around me forever. I want my hair to be constantly bathed in sea water where I first learnt how to swim, and dried by the ferocious sun that bronzes my skin to the point where I look like my father, my cousins, my aunt.
I want to have the musical voice, the guttural language. My mouth forms the sounds but they stumble out uneasy, I’m still the same newborn to my family. Talking in garbles trying so hard to communicate. And like a child, I am praised so highly for it.
Leaving will be heartbreak. An end to a passionate love affair that took me by surprise, being taught to never love where you are from.