"When I am forty seven I can say that all I was mental to learn I learned before I was seven. It took the rest forty years to understand it." (Marina Tsvetaeva)
I am thirty seven and I could say that in the last twenty years everything that I've learned to believe in during my first seventeen years has piecemeal collapsed.
The country which I believed to be my homeland and were I was born has disappeared from the maps more then twenty years ago. The country, the homeland of my ancestors, to where I moved to never has really existed within the borders it drew for itself.
That is when I realized I lost a «feeling of home». I can't say I felt it before, but now I acutely feel the absence of it. All the ideals and values that I grew up with and believed in turned out to be empty slogans, which are used by many for cashing in to material gains.
I've wandered back and forth from "The Land of Patriarchs" to Motherland, trying to find something that has retained its meaning. I came to the conclusion that it's all in my imagination fueled by what I've read in my favorite books. The only thing that I've been able to find is kindred spirits, romantics like me, modern day Don Quixote, who save this world from eating itself…