Where my heart is

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old familiar pillow." 

- Lin Yutang

Somehow, these words fit me well yet seem like strangers to me.

I guess it's always good to be back home, to sleep in your own bed, to hear your mother tongue. It has always been that way. However now, it all seems boring, and it feels like nothing in my room is really mine. It's not my city anymore, it's not the blue sky I remember seeing through the airplane window.

People say home is where your heart is. Mine is somewhere, across three tropics, a rainforest and innumerous islands. My heart is in pieces, that are scattered on every sidewalk I walked, every gift shop in every hotel lobby and museum I entered, every airport I felt anxious at. These pieces are at the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the American Museum of Natural History's gift shop and Fort Worth International Airport.

Home is that feeling I get when we land in a foreign country, that feeling I can't stop having, of belonging there even though I just don't. The feeling of endless happiness, excitement, of looking forward to every little or great adventure to be.

My heart is in every line of every music, every movie and every book about the places I've been to, the places I visited. My heart's with 'I left my heart in San Francisco', with 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and even with 'Divergent'. Its pieces are even in places I've never seen, but dream to someday see. The fragments of my heart are with 'Midnight in Paris' and in every Ed Sheeran's song. They're near Parthenon, and Venice's Canals.

My heart is not here anymore. My heart's in Washington, Boston, Monterey and in Chicago. It's in New Orleans, Barcelona, Munich, Marrakesh, Santorini and Sidney. It's everywhere. And nowhere around here. It's not in my chest anymore, and it hurts. It hurts not to be where my heart is.

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It started with drawings, balloons and nap time. The world was red, yellow and blue; cookies and muffins, teddys and dolls, marys and johns. The very hungry caterpillar.

Then, there was cursive, and handouts, and jelly, and

Mrs. D

Mrs.I

Mrs. F-F-I

Mrs. C

Mrs. U

Mrs. L-T-Y.

Mrs. Homework, Mrs. Bicycle, Mrs. Ma-Til-Da.

It became more purple, green and orange; more reading, more writing, more tests, more parties, more music, more dancing, more teenage - understanding.

It turned into salad, and Fitzgerald, and Dickens, and Plato; It was exchange, and kisses, and crying, and drama, and powerpoint, whatsapp, and gym.

The mess finished, for another one to start: straight aways and gap years, unis and lectures, career and choices. Only carry ons, and not a single “put off”.

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Life.

Possessions

I don’t know, but I feel like most people’s favourite things have a sentimental meaning: we all love a certain piece of clothing, a letter, an old ring. Well, I really like one of the walls in my room.

It started like this: a small Indian-like girl enters a recently opened book shop in December of the past year, holding quite a nice sum of money, because the cinema ticket was way cheaper than she thought. She was immediately attracted to the DVD section on the ground floor, and started looking through the movies. She found one, her father always said that he loved, and decided to bring it home. Yup, that’s me. And yes, that’s how my (now composed by something around 50) DVDs collection began.

Then, there’s the boredom of summer holidays, when everything possible to do has already been done. Christmas and New Year’s had already passed, my piano songs were all learned, school stuff was bought, books were read, movies were watched, travels were travelled, potatoes could be still called potatoes. My summer days were still full of emptiness, when, going through the internet (on a site called weheart it, that is now my absolute love), I found some pictures of idols of mine, of favourite actors, actresses, directors and movies. I had to have them printed, they just couldn’t remain in an abandoned folder in the cellphone’s gallery. Luckily there was a wide, blank, ready to be filled space, between the two book/DVDs’ shelves in my room, perfect for a photo collage. It was the end of my music playlist and bored and long hours, with nothing to do. Now, I have all of my famous best friends (you may also know them as Robert Downey JR. and Keira Knightley, among others) in my bedroom, making it more colourful and happy.

Every time I look at that wall, I feel serene, calm. I feel excited, nostalgic for all the movies I can’t watch right now, and even for the ones I haven’t watched yet. I feel like I can do anything and I am amazed, with how movies changed my life.

I feel happy, just like an ordinary person, loving their vintage ordinary favourite ring.