The past month has been characterized by a lot of movement. Just how much movement has taken place at any given moment is difficult to see (and perhaps even harder to grasp) without placing it within the broader context of an international move.
Unlike my time in Rangoon, when I’m in the United States, I blend in. Or at least, I appear to, until someone scratches the surface by asking me an impossible question like “Where are you coming from?” or “What’s your billing zip code?” Suddenly, any illusions about belonging and being settled start to unravel.
Collecting Postcards 