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It's interesting, how split up my life has become. back home, people are living, dying and being born. People i used to know well, people who populated my childhood and people who are increasingly vanishing from my present. And what about my present? I feel like one of the pilgrims, stumbled upon a parallel reality, so familiar from all the pictures and TV, but so different in lived experience.
There is gnawing sense of guilt. That for now my life is so good, while those left behind have no place here, except in letters, skype and phone calls. that I'm not there to console or share, except in letters, skype and phone calls. I have always been cowardly, preferring to sever my connection to the past, preferring to restart, and I have restarted many times, from a present moment where everything is new, like a new series on TV, where everyone arrives on the scene in episode one, always, already themselves.
I am a happy explorer of the world. But its so intense, I can hardly keep track. its so complex, i can hardly detangle it into a nice, noodle-like linear narrative. But I am going to try because otherwise, things will get remade in my own head each time i remember it. Chronicling is now a necessity.
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