America.

Feels the same, yet a bit different every time I come back. 

There’s snow on the ground. Snow stays clean here for longer. The air is cool, fresh. It gets me to wake up from dreaming. It keeps me awake, stuck with my feet in the present.

It’s good to see friends. To feel missed and loved. 

At the same time, I feel that my other life on the other continent is just a misty dream. It used to pain me; now it numbs me. And then I go out and I realize this is my life now and I’d better enjoy it.