It’s curious to me how a place so foreign can quickly seem familiar. I think it’s only a coping mechanism because I felt the same way in Italy, actually more so…. until a plane was flown into a building blocks from where I was studying. I went from feeling so much a part of, to knowing how much of an outsider I really was.

When I’m on trips like this – I’m constantly testing the water, trying the new life on for size to see if it fits. In Portland, the city I’m currently calling home, I am closer to “my life” than I’ve ever been…but something is still missing. Don’t know that means exactly, but haven’t quite found whatever I’m looking for.