Tuesday, May 29, 2007

From Santorini

This weekend I realized that people almost never speak to me on the street anymore. At first I wondered why this was, and then I realized. I am no longer open. The men who whistle do not have hope in their eyes, it is just a reflex. The people in shops know that I am not looking for gifts to bring home. I am no longer a foreigner here, but neither am I a local. Hovering in between seems to be the place where I am bound to end up almost wherever I go, and it is a place that I am growing to be comfortable in. Neither an insider nor an outsider, and as places in a society go, I suppose that this is a pretty good place to be.


Blogger Peggie Arvidson said...

I just found your blog. Your photos are so lovely. and your prose is compelling. finding a home and leaving. and working to find ourselves amid the imaginings of what we imagine others are thinking about us. Quite a lot to do. Much success and joy on your travels. Keep writing. I'm intrigued!

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