- lonely sunbath.

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Working late had never really been a problem for me. I mean, I used to do it basically all the time back in Madagascar. I didn't have a choice: either that or I would never have been able to come here. Obviously, I wasn't able to get into the best program because of a few income problems, but nevermind, I was still pretty fucking happy with being here. Plus this program allowed me to work to pay for a few extras. Buying my own food - seriously that host family of mine can't cook for shit - and buying stuff that I didn't really need, but at least, I'll come back with a few gift that will make my whole family happy. Anyway, now all I wanted to do was go to beach. Bring myself back home even though I couldn't really get there. Sensations, it was all about that. Feeling the sand through my toes and the fresh air on my face while the sun was shining down on me. This serisouly couldn't get any better. Sure when I'll be done with the beach, then I'll go back into my house to study for class. If I don't study then all this money spent will become useless. I bet that some rich kids over here don't give a flying fuck about the money nor their course, I guess some of them are just here to say that they were here to some of their friends, but that's not my case. Right now though, all I could think about was the loneliness the beach was giving me. Surely, I didn't expect someone to come up and sit beside me...

I felt overwhelmed.
Somehow, things didn't feel right. I was achieving a dream yet I couldn't feel as happy as I had imagined it. Months and months of thinking, planning, organising. Yet I still couldn't figure out whether I had left to discover a new place or to flee. Being Israeli wasn't just a fact about myself anymore, something I would just babble out in the middle of conversation. It was a burden, some kind of dirt which would stick to my honey-coloured skin, never falling off. It was a secret, a whispered confession. It wasn't just a few words, falling of my lips like raindrops from the sky. It was an apology. An apology to the entire world.
I hated it. Yet I loved it, passionately, deeply, caringly. I could never stop thinking about Israel. It was my home, my everything. I hated myself for it, but I could not stop missing my country. So I left. I left the city centre, with its grey clouds and its grey buildings, its grey paper people with their grey voices babbling grey words of a language which I could not understand. For some reason, I thought that leaving Bournemouth would bring me back home. And unfortunately, it didn't. But when I arrived at the beach, everything felt much better already. And much worse too.
« The sea is like home, always. »
I wasn't expecting an answer. Frankly, I had no idea how I arrived next to this woman – who actually looked quite young, maybe even my age –, nor why I was talking to her in english. She probably wouldn't even understand what I meant. I had no idea what I was talking about either. It just felt very soothing.