Belonging

Belonging. There’s something sad, and beautiful, about being an immigrant, a traveller, which is the sense of belonging. Somehow I know I’ll never belong here, and I can move to many different countries, and never belong anywhere. I don’t quite belong back in my hometown either, their clocks moved differently than mine and somehow, I’m slightly off tempo. It’s a lonely feeling, not belonging, but that’s also a strength, as I’m the combination of the constant encounters in my life, encounters that go beyond borders and somehow, I now belong to a lot of different places, whilst belong to none.

I learnt the names of the plants around me and now, wherever I walk. I find friends, I know their stories, I know their songs. I also know the songs from home, it’s a heart beat that goes on strong, and that I’m proud of being, proud of belonging to so many different places. Still, my heart will always be, American, Latino, Brazilian, traveller, whilst I’m on this constant search, of new homes away from home, and keep on finding new places to belong.