Displacement

that's the best way to describe how I am feeling these days...

and of course she had to ask me to go back to my childhood...that with every move I get reminded of the night we moved oversees and how that very same night, I felt a discomfort in my stomach that has since stayed. And I told mom in the bathroom upstairs that condo in Marina del Ray that we should go back, that already I missed everyone.

That was 17 years ago.

And since then with every new place, I feel the same discomfort, the same "I don't belong here" feeling...

Then of course, you work on it and make a "home" and buy things and put things up and cook and have friends over...then...one day, it comes when you have to get the boxes and wrap the same shit again and move them... you do this a few times until you die.

Some moves are mandatory like what happened to me after the Red Wall. Some moves are unjust like what happened to my parents. Some moves are by choice like when we bought the townhome in AH. And yet some moves are fortuitous. This move was the latter.

The move from Iran 17 years ago was of course, a combination of all of the above.