Home is where your bed is

I settled down into my chair. The tables were arranged in a U -shape, so that everyone could see each other. One by one we introduced ourselves. I said where I am from and how old I was when I moved and that my mother tongue is not Romanian but Hungarian. As always, I was greeted with confused faces. Then, I had to explain my heritage and it is a story I have told many times. It really annoys me that I have to share it every time I introduce myself to someone. Maybe I am not proud of my nationality. Or maybe I just think that it doesn’t really matter. Is it only me that doesn’t care where others are from? That I am more interested in the person they are?

Kolozsvar/Cluj-Napoca in Romania. The city where I was born.

I wish I could just say that I am international. Or that people would not care so much about my background. For now I feel that my home is where my bed is.


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