I found this little pouch I sewed in Third or Fourth Grade, when I learnt to sew kilim.
These tropical plants thrive in Macin despite the clear four seasons with extreme weather. I guess my parents ensure a tropical climate inside the house.
I get a bit depressed when I come to Macin. I relive the gloomy feeling of being trapped. The roads of macadam are utterly uneven, many houses and sidewalks are falling apart, the cinema theatre is dilapidated and abandoned smack in the center, and weeds cover most green areas. Stray dogs and cats run around everywhere, spreading a sense of true desolation.
And then you run into an entirely out of place villa with dainty gardens and a bright, modern look, you get passed by a luxury car, get blown away by a huge church dominating the downtown, or enter a modern Pharmacy.
The polar looks of Macin are confusing to me. I don't feel at home, I don't belong, and I want to run away. Except for my heart, which is always here with my dear parents.
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