written in September 2012
The airport is a crossing of many travels. Every time again, I leave with mixed feelings about my travel.
On one side, I am excited, curious and have that itchy freedom feeling, but on the other side… opening a new door means also to leave something behind.
During the trip from my home in Antwerp to the airport I gazed to my father driving the car, the man who influences my whole past, presence and future, a determinant, a denominator in the fraction of my life. It was one of these moments that I got aware how import he is, and that he absolute loves me, because he always supports me, and even let me go… every time… to a new destination, or a new direction. He really believes that I can change the world, even if it is only my own world. My mother is the counter. She does not really understand why I am going to Prague, but she loves me, and accepts that I am a wanderer, a lost girl in this always changing world. It is weird that you can miss people, when they are still in the same car as you.