By the light of dawn, it became evident to me that I never stopped still mourning my first home: peace, green grass and rolling hills. It has blended with certain dreams and a few peculiar things take me back in the blink of an eye, the note of a song. Like being pulled out of my own world, I’m suddenly amid the optimistic crowd of people and cars with skyscrapers in the distance, laughing in a way that the joy reaches every inch of my body. It doesn’t flee like a shadow, forgotten as quickly as it arrived. It is a sunny spring day, just warm enough to chase away the chill of winter. Yet even winters here are spectacular because there is a candle in every window and the scent of fir trees in every room. Today I let the sun caress my skin and the wind sing through my hair, for I am home.
Even as the song that transported me to my home ends, I can still smell the aroma of sweet tulips on a breeze.