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" There Is No Place Like Home "

St Leu, Reunion Island, France

Going home is hard. But the hardest part may be leaving, yet. After a tumultuous year in Le Havre countries, and visited Europe after crossing the French islands, he has had to go home. A year's absence.
The House is still the same but the illusion escapes as soon as I enter my room. Trees and plants have taken possession, carpet swarming insects, the closet is full of strange noises, and a creek moved under my bed. There is no doubt that no human being did not come here long ago. I'm alone inside, and becomes a child.

As I said, it is hard to go home. At the meeting, people walk more slowly than in France, they are less aggressive and less anxious, but also less clear and more mysterious. We must slow down its approach, and habits. The meeting is less clear than France. There are finally some whites and blacks: even if the social disparities exist, making interbreeding population Reunion variegated and complex, full of complex, too.

It is also hard to go back because suddenly we find ourselves in the place "passenger" in the car next to his mother that takes you to shop, as if finally we had not 21, but they remained adolescents. While many things have changed and will change again. Review

friends, acquaintances. Something difficult as well. When you leave your life to become a high school student, you get much more focused on self and its future. Travel that will make us flourish, alone. Do the studies that will lead us away, alone.

Meeting people, while remaining itself, meet people who are "we" and "other" at a time, alone again. Returning to the meeting, I then met with individuals, with their merry way behind as I return home. It is also strange because, although time has passed, we feel this proximity, youth become lost on the island of childhood.

The Spot Surf St Leu, internationally recognized

This house smelled of adolescence and leafy outgrowths of love. In the distance could be heard even though the perpetual grumbling of the Sea, as a reassuring presence that helps you to sleep. Because the House is a "birthplace". Not that there is born biologically, it's just that house married a new birth, a new existence. We have plenty of native houses. But me, one I know best is my house in the trees.

"Always be other than here." I think we always look where you will be well. It is true that our age must travel and search everywhere looking for the best, we must explore and see everything. But is not alienating than seeking always the best? For although moving can be lifesaving, "there are flowers everywhere who want to see them." The Birthplace is not the best, but might be okay. It took me two months to understand.

So if the malaise of arrival is present initially, it feels fast feet rooted in the soil. In my room, then I feel the raindrops falling from my ceiling, as if the rain pierced the roof. My feet sink and take root in the carpet wet, while my arm come to life and are adorned with leaves and thorns. The stems and buds invade my hair while my skin hardens and turns brown. The song of wild birds echo through the empty room, dark plant.

So we left, we said stupid things, we eat pizza on the beach, you walk on the harbor, looking at girls in nightclub (laughing inwardly a wench that a mirror in front of us and caress his chest while dancing), dance on Barbie girl after five glasses of punch which is quite a headache, we laugh, we make car accidents, we walk and approach, we play the piano to sing the lions and monkeys, with language carefully caress the blue smoke of a cigarette a bit strange, there is comfort and console, we see what is not, and What is even. The roots take water in the streams of dreams.



Thus, it can not be that difficult to leave, as if life had we pressed again unshaven cheek against the pillow. Japan approach, with him a lot of discovery, joy and some certain problems. I do not think it would be difficult to leave, to start getting lost. "Travel for poorer, undress again, returning to France, sinking into Lanuit with curiosity, watching the clouds in the sky and lightnings, and keep deep within this little song:

" My countries, bato crazy Oussa banna ral y to us? "

front of my home