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276 1995 Belonging I don’t belong anywhere. I have never belonged anywhere. Of all the times and all the places, I was just a visitor, a tourist, sometimes even an explorer. But I didn’t belong. Once I saw the world I was in, I wanted to see the next world, wanted to go on, wanted to see. I love this place, here, where I live. But throughout the fast years of living here I always feel like a visitor, a traveler just passing through on the way to somewhere else. I don’t belong here. I know that. “When all the goodbyes are said,” I once wrote, “I want to be the one who is leaving.” But I am beyond leaving, now. I am finally rooted in place. I have no will to leave. And then another book is published. ...

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