My identity is a wave

Exiled from my home, resettled in a foreign land, and refusing to be silenced

Originally published on Global Voices

Feature image via Canva Pro

After a while, it all becomes a blur.

Cobblestone streets, bike lane-lined roads, canals, and rivers winding through cities both small and sprawling. Traffic jams, traffic lights, narrow alleys, and wide boulevards. The hum of cities, their layered smells. Don’t even get me started on museums, galleries, and exhibitions — then concerts, recitals, theater, and shows.