Finding your stable feet

There have been quite a few posts on my blog, in which I shared about my feelings towards different places I have lived in or have been to. Jyväskylä is probably the most mentioned city. You see, I came there before I even turned 18 officially, and the place was very much a representation of my big life milestone. I also lived in London – UK, in Breda – the Netherlands, Mandelieu La Napoule – France, and now, I find myself in a coast city: Vaasa – Finland. In addition to these cities, I have been to other few places for short to medium length travelling.

If you have read some of those posts, it may not come as a surprise that I usually develop connections with the places I stepped my feet in.

London was where I found a fresh young girl falling in love madly. London taught me the very first real but crooked definition of “love”.

Breda kept within it my Erasmus exchange memories, the laughter, the drunk parties, the friendship, the companies, the partners in crime and the one that got away. The Netherlands was how I brought myself back to excitement of being in a new place, making new friends and having a new purpose to dip myself in experiences.

Then, in Mandelieu La Napoule, I hid. I got defeated in these last 1,5 years. I was blinded with my own failures, I came back to my oldest passion – travelling/ moving to a new city, or perhaps, come back to also my most common excuse for escapism. Southern France gave me the peace behind every single wave rolling on the beach surfaces, behind the winds floating through trees while I pushed myself to hike towards higher and further point; but of course, to trade for such peace, I lived with lonesomeness.

Finland. Well, Finland became my second home town years ago, and has always been. In a way, I feel I am re-born here. Certainly, my relationship with this country has began to face obstacles and plenty of wonders. Even so, I doubt I would ever change my way of looking at it the way I am looking at it now – after every each time I return here after being in a different place – as if I am looking at the most familiar place to me ever.

I take pride in telling others the places I have been to, and lived in. Even though I take joy in dazzling others’ eyes when I tell them those places as my life achievements, they are also more than that. They have become parts of my identity. To tell people about my different types of crushes for these places, I am reminding myself of how I am living closely to my ‘coreness‘. Sure, it sounds romanticized, but sometimes, the things which sound most cliché, are unfortunately deniably true.

It is easy to forget the dream you had when you were kids. And I am not even talking about all the silly dreams we had, like being a superman or cat-woman, or a princess/prince/ king/ queen (despite the fact that the idea of having a castle is still very tempting now and then), etc.

But I mean, THE DREAM. The one and only one dream, speaks to you the most, and stay with you the longest.

For me, it is travelling, even before I am aware of what the term “travelling” would mean. This very special kind of dream seems the most challenging to keep. Because it is not unrealistic, you know you might be able to make the dream come true one way or another. But it is also unrealistic, years of growing up and attempting to be an adult at least has taught you much.

I have not lived enough to out-say other more experienced people about how to achieve your dream eventually. This post is not about that.

This post is for me to share the other side of my dream: the breaking-up phase with my places. As I know how lucky I still am, I don’t normally say out loud to myself the holes made inside me sometimes, after I leave a place.

Being on the move is great. Being on the move also equals not settling down, either physically, geographically or mentally, sometimes all. The excitement for exploration I depend on is short-lived. After certain time living in a place, you may fall back into a life with usual pattern plus repetitive daily activities. I myself find me in boredom. I see myself being curious about what may be different in some other places. I see me starting to look at tickets, jobs, paper work process and day-dream about being able to just pack and go.

So, people usually say, being on the move sounds exciting but one cannot always be on the move, and do that forever. And I usually laugh away their sayings. I laugh away even more if people add the ideas of starting a family and living permanently in one place. But there is nothing wrong with those ideas. In fact, I secretly agree with those people in parts. Being on the move requires you to be emotionally adjusted. Being on the move makes you realise you have never had a particular place where you call home, and you can just buy tons of housing decorations without wondering what to do with them when you move again, at least for the next many years. Being on the move requires financial support, if you are to hold a limited passport. Being on the move means you cannot promise to make a work contract for years. Let’s not talk much about what being on the move might affect to your relationships, I guess, we are all somehow aware of that price.

I laugh away, because still, being on the move is my very important dream. To imagine me forgetting it, is scary. To think about the things I cannot have in exchange for what I am passionate about, is challenging, (hell, many times, really challenging); but yet satisfying. It reminds me of my ‘coreness‘. All the places construct the very present me. I know that my future me will be even more evolving with new places I will be in.

I guess, my very main message is that even if I am seen as living my dream, I may not have every ingredients to make a perfect life; the same for everyone else and every other situations. Food for thought (?): nothing in life can be in total perfection.

I don’t know if I will ever have stable feet. But I know I have no desire to find out anytime soon.


What it feels to be in the so called Scandinavian Capital

In my last post about Gothenburg, you might have caught how I made this spontaneous trip to Sweden. At 22:27 Sweden time today, I have the pleasure to share with you how amazing the experience to be in the city has been. I arrived to Stockholm on Saturday, quite early in the morning, by train. In the last 5 minutes before the train arrived at the station, it passed by the sea views, in the centre. I could not find a better word describing except “wow!”. My face started to form a smile, because I could not hide better my own excitement. The city began to shape clearer appearance; sunlight was reflecting partly on river’s surface; turning the whole view through a small train’s window sparking as little diamonds. I felt something urging rising inside me.

I used Couch Surfing again for this destination of the trip, figuring out it would be fun to meet new person. I took the bus to my host’s apartment; and the weather changed slowly to little wind and greyness, but I did not mind. I arrived at the address quite well (not lost as much as usual), came in and got greeted in the elevator; since my host spotted me on the road, from his apartment’s window. He is a lovely guy, around 30-40 years old, looks successful and really friendly. He comes from Turkey, has lived in Sweden for four years, had a steady job but was planning to move back soon to Turkey for another better conditioned job. He has been travelling a lot too, and he also spent 4 college years in Canada. It is always great to meet person who is also in love and a travel addict. It is always even greater to have new shed of lights for distraction, meaning I got so focused into sharing new information, new hobbies with this new person; that I sort of have been forgetting about my own situation for days. You might wonder what “shed of lights” I might meant to make a metaphor of.

Johan Edelheim (2015) wrote a book researching about Tourist Attraction, stated “travelling is a way of finding identity“. Identity is a challenging abstract word. Simply in words, identity defines who you are; but words brought to real world, become harder to capture. There exists so many demands of many sources for one throughout life, I guess it turns to be quite easy for one to be lost about who he/she really is, what he/she really wants. I won’t bother you about reasons why I am at such phase where I am; but I’d like to believe in the sentence of Johan Edelheim. Travelling is a form of escapism, in which a person obtains the psychology that he/she does not have to do normal things of daily life (or at least this is how I have understood).  It is as if the pressure of being common is taken away, leaving space for you to be uncommon as much as you want to be. Possibly within such space, you are free to see what you really actually like and are fond of. I owe Stockholm this.

Day 1

I spent my first day in this city, walking. In fact, I spent all the days in this city walking. My host’s place luckily was near the centre; I didn’t find a need to purchase travelling ticket card. I did not mind walking either, the view was too fabulous to miss out being inside the bus or tram. My host lives in Sodermalm. It takes 10-15 minutes walking to Gamla Stan – the Old Town.

In my opinion, the Old Town was not much different from any other old towns I have seen. The same as old town in Prague, Czech Republic. The same as old town in Warsaw, Poland. And so forth. There are lots of vintage shops, cozy coffee shops and obviously, tourists. Not that I am a local citizen. I liked the old town, but was not so much impressed; until I walked to the area in the second picture, enjoying the sea view. I did pass by Nobel Museum, Royal Palace Museum but I realised I did not enjoy them as much as the outside view. Therefore, I just left Gamla Stan, continue walking aimlessly to where I am attracted the most. I walked towards a bridge (there are many bridges in Stockholm), crossed over to see this amazing hotel building Grand Hotel, a bit further passing National Museum, and arrived at SkeppsHolmen.

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(I had to sit down a bit taking these pictures before walking to SkeppsHolmen island. Breathtaking, isn’t it?)

I had my small lunch in Asia Museum on the island (picture 1 below). Then, I spent few more hours in the Modern Museum. It made me wishing to be an Art student, if I had had a chance to turn back to the past. I bought two post cards, one of which has a painting of Picasso – “The woman in blue collar“. I am literally still glad that I bought something from that interesting museum. I decided to leave it then, I was afraid I might end up spending more money and more time being stuck inside. I was urged to see more beautiful outside views of Stockholm. Unfortunately, the weather became worse at the time. It was snowing and windy, as you might see in the next picture. However so, I found it rather amusing. I thought to myself, that I would tell my friends later whoever told me this was the worst time of the year for travelling. I mean, it can be surely better with more brighter colour during summer. But, the snow has its own perks. I did not have a proper camera to catch flow of snow in the air for you all; so you might just notice the groomy atmosphere. In reality, it was not so bad. I ended up being all soaking wet on the way walking home; but that was just because I decided to walk further to near city centre and walked the whole way back.

Day 2

It was Sunday, and since I spent time chatting, watching movies with my host previous evening, I woke up rather late (well, suitable for a Sunday morning). I had my host as a company later, as my city tour guide. I asked him if we could walk the whole journey; since I still wished to stick to my original plan of walking for this whole trip. We walked again to Skeppsholmen, but we did actually walk around the whole island before leaving. I noticed lots of nice houses, nice boats further at the back of Skeppsholmen. In fact, I cannot even tell you how many nice vintage, historic buildings I have spotted in Stockholm. The European architecture in the city is undeniable wrapped in royal vibe. It hit me in awe, noticing how the buildings look outside as castles, but inside just average offices, houses, apartments, department stores, etc. How would one feel to go to work, to shop or to live in places appearing as if they are only meant for royal and rich people. That is how it struck me, and I think for many moments, I have been taken away with such feeling.

We walked a lot with my host, until quite late in the evening, passing Culture Centre and the most popular shopping street of Stockholm. Then, we ended the day with walking up to this Goladen, for me to see the city view from above (always my favourite thing ever).

Day 3

We walked again, to Djurgarden and Skansen area, where almost the popular touristic museums were placed: Vasa Museum, Nordic Museum, Tobaks Museet. There also places Tivoli amusement park , Cirkus, and Abba Museum. I went inside to buy my parents a postcard of their favourite band. We spent one hour wandering around, talking about different topics. Again, my luck to have a nice lovely host.

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Then, we stopped by for a warm coffee, before heading back to home resting and ended the last day with a big delicious Turkish dinner. So I did not go inside those museums, or a lot of attractions; but the trip was how I wanted. I have never been such a big plan of the museums, as I said, unless some particular that stayed in my head. And since this trip was supposed to be a budget backpack short spontaneous trip, I tended not to spend a lot money for entrance admission of eating outside quite often. I did not even spend even a day researching for where I wanted to see in Stockholm. I did the plan, along the days since I arrived at the city. I took some guidebook, noticed some areas recommending to visit, and of course, my host’s opinions as a local actor. As in one of my recent interview with Cory Lee – an accessible wheelchair user, “local people interaction is always important, since they know more we do, and their input is valuable“.

So that pretty much summed up my days here so far; and now I am sitting writing this. I owed this city. I owed this trip. For its ability to make me realise some lost parts inside me, a version of myself who accidentally smile seeing a spectacular view, who happily share experiences with others with same hobbies, who would not spend so much time eating out but do not mind spending for coffees in different places, and who would sigh out satisfied sipping in a nice coffee with a good urban atmosphere. And most interestingly, Stockholm does not even seem as urbanised as I thought it would be; but I am aware of how developed it has been and how people fit to their “capital” sense of dressing. There is an old me only woken up while travelling, a passionate me refusing to be attached and in love with her moving legs. And you know, I have been asking myself many times, walking around in Stockholm, “How have I forgot?“.

Gothenburg – my convenient escape destination

So today is my last day in this city, tomorrow I will take a train going to Stockholm, really early unfortunately. I want to write a post about it.

Earlier, I did mention shortly about my trip to the World Cultural Museum; but now, I will rewind a bit backwards more about this whole trip. I did not plan for this trip at all. I just wanted to go somewhere. I recalled my friend saying he would go to Gothenburg to visit his boyfriend soon on St. Valentine’s day. I have been to the city before, and I also know his boyfriend for two years. And it might not be the perfect to ask my friend dragging me along with him, when he wanted to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day with his loved one. I kind of did anyway. I only bought the ticket going there at the time. I thought I would not entitle myself to the day returning this time, just because I really have no things in life to attach to that strongly. Then, I felt guilty during the last week before I left. I was about to use money again, when I was not supposed to, when I should act more responsibly towards my life. Travelling has always been in my blood, you know. I assume it is owing to that, I purchased the ticket rather spontaneously and recklessly. But there was no way of feeling guilty when there was nothing more I could have changed. The ticket was non-refundable. I just had to go along with it.

The first day I arrived there with my friend, we stayed in to watch Melody Festival competition happening in Sweden, preparing for upcoming Eurovision. So, it was rather a chilling evening with friends. The second day, we had nice breakfast, stayed input, watched more different sorts of entertainment, movies, comedy series; but the weather was too beautiful not to go outside. We then managed to get ourselves off the couch. I mean, I would do it anyway. Jyvaskyla has been in a gloomy winter for a while; I started to forget how much lively the sunshine could make me. We went for a walk, to the forest and all, and that was also the day I posted about St. Valentine and sunshine.

The next day, I spent a day with my friend. It has been a while, since October. I mean, I met him after New Years; but he was having a busy time. So we didn’t do many things together. I stayed input in his place when he was at work; then, he came home, and we watched stuff and ate (do you notice how typical these activities are?). But last Monday, we did stuff together again. We went to have a lunch buffet, then we walked through the park, and got caught up in discussing about relationship stuff a bit, in an okay amount. I did not wish to speak more, I was afraid I might end up telling him a whole lot, and I did not think he was in any mood to help me dragging my baggage around. He has his own. And it is weird we do not share with each other. But I guess, that is how it is, sometimes?

The point was we had fun; and I was reminded by what sort of fun I had being around him. In the last picture, it was me, being tiny in the whole lot of nature. It is hard to be gloomy when you have such a lightened background as that behind you, isn’t it?

Then, we visited two bookstores. The second one was a science fictional book. And I laughed a lot. I laughed pretty much at everything, and I remembered about how we were like this as well, on the trip to Tallinn during New Years before I left to the Netherlands. We found this comedy section, marked our high-peak laughing. We were tired at the end of that day, I wonder whether it was because of all the laughing.

He left back to Finland the next day because he had a job. I don’t have anything much except my thesis, so I stayed a couple of more days in Gothenburg. I walked around, explored a bit more of the city on my own (which was unfortunately mostly the center area, since I was afraid I might be lost somewhere strange and I did not have phone service to call for help). The weather for the last two days weren’t as good as the first few days. Today it was quite foggy, in fact. Anyway, Gothenburg has its own charm I did not realise last time I was here. It could be likely due to the fact I only stayed for a weekend; as when I still had a job to go back to. My friend’s boyfriend lives in the area, which takes 20 minutes to the center by tram. It has to go over the bridge, and I love that part the most. I got to see the harbour. It is so lovely, even if mostly you can just see boats and ships surrounding. I mean, you might think this sounds ridiculous, given the fact that it is harbour. It is just that, I experience a different type of harbour in Jyvaskyla. In the city I live in, we have this small area near our biggest lake there, and we call it harbour anyway; even though it is not so surrounded by ships as this one in Gothenburg. The Gothenburg’s version leaves me more industrial feeling; still, my best part of the trip going to the center area. I paid visit to two museums, World Cultural Museum and Gothenburg Art Museum. I am normally not a huge fan with museums. I don’t hate them, but I assume I don’t have such a strong knowledge background about art, pushing to visit every museums in new destinations. But I do it sometimes, when I come across the ones I feel like I am interested at. I don’t like to pretend to understand something I don’t; but I figure it is no harm to give it a try, being artistic for one day. So I gave it a try yesterday when I walked to the Gothenburg Art Museum. It is a big marvelous building, at the end of Avenyn street, near Haga area. It is also near the city’s library (I assume, but I am pretty sure it is a library anyway).

There are surely more than these pictures; but these were only the ones I wanted to take pictures of. The first picture reminded of the view, from this spot near my place that I found during my first summer in Finland and I was mostly alone in the city. It was probably a normal day I got off work, and went for a run. This view:


This spot turned out to be where me and my two best friends managed to see the Northern Light, last October too, one night before a short-lived happy period in my life happened.

There was also a portrait piece of art, made my buttons. You cannot see very well through my poor skill of taking photograph; but it looked pretty amazing through real eyes. The ways the buttons’ colour are purposely arranged, and placed on each other. If you look close, you would not think they make any difference until you walk backwards a bit, and look at the whole picture. Like someone always shouts to you “Look at the big picture please!“.

The last one was me, not trying to have a selfie. It was a small room, with the mirrors around, and this fabric art on top of me. It was work of someone (which I hated myself for not noting her name down), out of an art researched. She considered still fabrics reflecting something musical, so she built up this art, with such fabric and the colours you noticed in the picture, are in fact flowing, along with this music tune in background. I touched some parts, and you can see the colours inside the fabric moves, as if when you touch the lake, and you see the rings sort of vibrating to larger areas and not ending. The spots I touched at (oh by the way, I am allowed to do so), will also reflect a music key, and it will keep doing so every time I touch. I was acting quite like a kid, playing with new toy in the room. I was somehow grateful that there were no other kids around me to see so.

Then, I left the museum, kept walking around the center, stopped by some shops to check out stuff and eventually sat in a coffee shop for few hours. I always like to do that, walk until I am tired and notice different places I would like to stop by when I do stop. It is sometimes causing a lot of headaches. I can actually see myself as such an indecisive person in those situations. I simply cannot make a choice! Anyhow, I like being in one spot, when I am tired, and have a cup of coffee, and stair at outside, before I took out my laptop, or book, or notebook. Every now and then I did so, I recalled this one focus group I was in, researching about human social reaction. I stated during the focus group time, that I did this activity a lot, going to a coffee shop, and being in a corner by myself, while in fact I can do that at home too. But I like to be invisible within the crowd, in a strange way. It gave me push of concentrating on my work. They asked me why, I had no idea. But I used not to pay attention to those, until after that focus group. Now before I took out my laptop and my work, I looked around and noticed how many other people do the same thing. I noticed them in not a creepy way, their focused face on the laptop’s screen and papers surrounding them, and maybe the cold cup of coffee, and maybe the salad or muffin they are trying to digest while working at the same time. So, that is pretty much our lives have become to. Too busy even to stop doing stuff and eating and enjoying the coffee. I would probably do the same thing though. But, suddenly, for some reasons, going to the coffee shop alone and not doing those kinds of stuff just make the whole situation so sad, and lonely; not that it is less lonely in reality when you do so, but maybe in your head. And I guess, that makes a difference.

But this city, I kind of like it. I kind of like it, not in the Breda kind of way ( the city I used to live in the Netherlands); but in London kind of way. I would try to describe a bit more. You might think it is more alone and you have more space living in a countryside, since there are like no one around you. For some cases of my Finnish friend’s hometown, there are actually NO ONE around you, except your family and the forest. But for me, growing up with the urban life for so long, a big city is where I find the clear emptiness. You might think there are all the people around you, so you have no space. Physically, yea. But mentally, you have all the space in the world. No one cares about you; because life is a bi pushy, fast, hard and stressful in urban style. So much demand, so much hopes, so much determination. I kind of like this sort of loneliness sometimes. I know how it might sound expressing explicitly as such; but this loneliness, I assume everyone needs it now and then. Kind of crawling back into your introspective world (a word used by Nick Hornby, in A Long Way Down); but knowing there are still tons of things for you to do, people to talk to, if you want to, when you decide to leave that shell. I like the nature in Finland. I like the quietness. I like the views which I have never paid attention to, throughout years living in big city. I am pretty sure I am affected by Finnish way of living a lot too. But I never throw out my deep crush for urban life. It is as if in my blood, a part of me growing up. So Gothenburg is okay, actually a nice place to visit too, especially in the summer time.

Maybe I will return soon, during the summer possibly. Now, I think I am sort of ready to see Stockholm.


So I didn’t have a chance yesterday to make a post about this exhibition in the World Cultural Museum that I went to, in Gothenburg. All of my writing ability were used and dried up for thesis, not that I had to write anything specific yesterday,except for transcribing the interview. But I want to share with you all a bit about what amazing stories I have read.

They were different stories, in different shapes, of different brave individual who decided to share a piece of their life to the world; so that some others who might have similar situations, would have the strength. They are not only the stories about being gay or lesbian or transgender. They are also about their beliefs in polygamy, as long as the story shows a side of different from the common world, not normal, but the common world. I did not even think about it that way before; despite the fact that I always support the difference within life. But I like whoever quoted this from Dorothy Parker: “Heterosexuality is not normal. It’s just common”. And I like the words used.

The exhibition was small, not as big as I thought. I held in my hand the stack of papers conveying all those stories. I read some, then I walked a bit more to see around. There were pictures of different couples in Vietnam, from my own country and culture. I recalled seeing them before in Prague, from Maika Elan.

The Pink Choice is a series of photos about the love of homosexual couples which focus on living spaces, the affectionate touches, and more importantly, the synchronized rhythm of lovers sharing life together. Viewers may not feel the personalities of the subjects in the photos, but hopefully they can feel the warmth of their love and caring. In way, I wanted to show what I see of homosexual people and not how they see themselves.

Photographer: Maika Elan

She wanted to show a different approach to Vietnamese society, through “personal stories using direct language: documentary photography to capture real moments and real people”. And I think she did a wonderful job. Not that she needed one more person to tell her so. I, myself, have never even looked at my own culture from such angle. I am a voluntary person who wishes to go abroad and explore and sometimes find myself being strongly disagree with many things relating to Vietnam. Something about the life when I was there, quite turned me off now and then. However so, the pictures “nostalgized” me in a way, reminding me of my own rootedness. It is a warmth you might find, living abroad for some time and subconsciously, you start to forget or let go some of aspects of your old life.

There was a whole corner only showing aspects about my culture. They were mostly in Swedish; hence, I did not take many pictures, except for these.

The left one, you can easily see what is about; and the second one emphasised women’s power and role in our society. Even though women are still considered to be in weaker position, to be taken care of and protected by men; Vietnamese women have a unique difference from other Asian cultures – we fought in the war, literally, and we fought against enemies when the men were not available. I liked it a lot. I liked hearing those stories, and seeing some of Western people know about this aspect of Vietnamese women. Because I was raised so. In some of the post in Tumblr, I had shared a bit about my parents. My mom is a tough woman, and not in the strict way or so. She likes to have fun, jokes around and not like I am always tip-toeing around her. But she is strong and tough. She has been through a lot, that I know; but she does not lose her spirit. She might lose her temper quite often though. She does not show emotions out a lot; and clearly, she does not always need my father to have a life. She can always be on her own. She is fine being on her own, most of the time. She keeps whispering to me, since I was a kid, that I needed a career first before getting married. Nowadays, she mentioned more about me having a boyfriend and not delaying those things too late, I don’t know why, I am still “freshly” young. But that was how she used to teach me. From whatever vibe she has wrapped me up, I grew up as an independent girl, so far, both fearful but also fearless. Pretty sure the fearless is from her.

The left picture though, was true in a sad way. And I don’t think it only applies to LGBT community; even though the situations might be the most unfortunate. It is said; owing to the fact that society there has too many standards for people to follow. It reached a point that we rarely questioned why, especially the old generation. A lot of young people, with different new modern mindset, have to be put in situations, in which they are against their family. I ensure you, it can be one of the worst feeling, to know that even your family is not supporting or believing in you. Or at least, from where I was raised, it is one of the worst feeling. Family should be the stop one returns or crawls to, knowing that stop would always be there no matter what harsh life has put you through.

There was a black board with a chalk; and I picked it up just to write: “Thank you for doing this exhibition. From a Vietnamese person.”

I walked further to see them presenting about our musical instruments, different types, and our traditional outfit – Ao Dai. The right part of the exhibit room, there was a screen playing about natural phase of a girl having armpits; in order to declare a refuse to believe in the norm, that all the girls are supposed to shave all the armpits. Then, there was a board with many faces, from many background, having a diverse skin colour. That is what a diversity exists within our community. I already wrote a note to myself, reminding me of how much this exhibition has given me. But I would also share here again, its impact.

I like to study about culture. Because I believe in differences. This is not to say I embrace it so well; but I believe in it, and try to study more about it, so I could embrace it better in the future and help others to see it too. Having people doing a totally different things or being different from the common knowledge one is taught about, makes one start to wonder about his/ her identity. I suppose it is a hard thing to accept; because most of us start to react in a negative way. We refuse to believe. We tend to hold onto to the common norms; because that is the way it should be. But I realised, through my limited living experiences, that we are all different. We are different from each other from the core, but that makes us all the same. Looking from far away, we are all same human, with body, legs, hands, arms, brain and all. Then getting closer, we reflect different pictures. I even realised, sometimes, in spite of how different the road you might take from the other, the two people might end up to be exact the same point. Between difference and likeliness exists such a thin life, would you agree?