The Same Different Place

I tend to catch a romantic glimpse of a country, it's people, the natural splendors, and wish to go back – to return and carve a small home for myself in the vast landscape of that which is foreign. It happened with Thailand, and every subsequent visit feels like a certain homage to my memories. It would have happened with Bhutan, if not for the bureaucratic immigration policies preventing foreigners from spoiling it with their foreignness, and it certainly has also happened with Nicaragua.

I want to return, to dig my roots into a community, leave a branch to the caretaking and watering by new friends, and have a nest to return to should I ever want or need to. I want to do that with every new place I visit, as if to drop a seedling of myself in new and fresh dirt.

Every poet, I suppose, should fall madly in love at least once in her life, so that she may come to know the shadow side of the feminine human experience, plumb the depth of her own vulnerability and emerge the wiser.
— Gioconda Belli, "The Country Under My Skin"
Freethought, WritingShawn Li