I think I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms.
A few months after I came back from Italy, I was still dreaming about it nightly, that I was eating gelato in Venice, that I was still strolling through the streets of Riva del Garda.
I miss China so much, I've been dreaming of it since I returned 2 weeks ago. It seems like an awfully long time, though. I miss all the people I met there. Okok, two living things, one not even a human being, but still.
Anyway, over the last few days, I've discovered a couple of things about myself. Just last night, I sat at the photo drawers, flipping through the albums. It was like looking at a past I can't remember. I kept flipping through album after album, looking for a particular something, but I didn't and don't know what it was. It was a very sad, empty feeling.
I gazed at the sweet face of the happy child in those photos, and honestly, can't believe that it was me.
Also, I realised that there wasn't a single photo with me and both mommy and daddy in them. It was either mommy and I, or daddy and I, never together.
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