My dad sent me an email today reminding me of my anniversary. It was two years ago that I stepped into the plane in Berlin Schoenefeld with my two pieces of extra heavy luggage containing all my possessions that I somehow thought were important to me. I was touched by the presence of my sisters and my good friend from teenagehood. So it came that although I was ready to go I had tears in my eyes. Now it is two years later and I have to say, I almost arrived in this place. Almost, because I still feel like the new kid on the block (although I am really not), almost because I still don't know where I belong and almost because I don't feel part of the whole. But almost, because the wish manifests to stay here, almost because I established my routines and almost, because I feel as a part of my immediate surroundings.
Time runs so fast! It runs, it flies, it races, I don't find a fitting word. Already my mind is occupied with leaving. Between arriving and leaving, I don't find time for actually being here. What will come next, where will I go, with whom will I be? People want me to go back, to be close, to be in reach. I just want to stay here, want to pause, want to languish. To be honest, it is very nice here. I don't want to think about what is next. I will have to, eventually. There is no steadiness. Not for a scientist, anyways.