Being away from home is very hard. It’s always hard. It is so hard during normal time when you still have that belief you will be able to go back one day, at some point. You hold on to that belief and plan all your thoughts from it.

But when that belief gets taken away from you, the pillars of your whole imagination tent to fall down. It is like a domino effect. Something you were not expecting and you can not see until the last second, until the domino before the last hits the one next to you.

Your whole imagination is now stuck, blocked on a single frame, always the same. That last view of your land, of your mothersoul.

The last picture you have taken with your eyes and not whit your camera. That picture now you try to cling so hard to that is getting blurred and faded.

That view you saw when leaving last time.

That time you thought that paying attention was not important because you were sure you would be back soon. That time when details were not important, because given for granted. But now those details are not detailed anymore... and your own homeland is blurring away in the back of your mind. In a lonely place where you put all those memories you can’t almost grasp anymore.

You don’t remember what was exactly where and how things where made and you just picture yourself rewind that last moment over and over again.... until you are finally “unflying” that last flight.

And you keep thinking that without flying you can’t possibly go back home.

That same flying always perceived as an extension of culture, a way to explore and tear down borders it is now over. So until this pandemic is finally over, flying for you is just and only a single frame. That exact frame that you picture again and again trying to add a small detail every time.