Homelands

A young boy, born in the smoky hills of Bhutan, beleived the entire world was purple rock and green hills. What luck.

He still recalled his first map: a mysterious relative, from far away, gave it to him while his parents weren't there. He was seven. He looked at it, testing the names of the places to see which ones sat the best on his tongue.

He was shocked at how small his own country was, especially as he looked out the window. Hue green plains, towering cliffs stood above him. How was the world so big?

A few years later his relative later sent him a city postcard. He stared at for hours alone, wondering what the huge concrete structures were for, why people needed artificial light that late, how one might live without access to fields of their own space.

He was nto sure if he ever wanted to leave. Maybe, he told himself, his country was beautiful, and he was lucky to be born here. But something deeper whispered on about experiencing the vastness of the world.

As a young boy, he was encouraged to say he'd leave Bhutan and never return. Incidentally, this would keep him from meeting the American girl, who, after seeing pictures of life outside cities, decided Southern Asia was her next destination.