they tell you its not easy. you don't believe them because you are a tourist having the time of your life.
you think to yourself i wanna live here, work here, die here. you relentlessly look for a job, you get one, you pack up and leave.
this time, no longer a tourist. this time, you're every waking moment is in this country so far from your own.
you get up, cook your own meal or buy from the nearby bakeshop. you run to the bus stop, just in time to catch your bus. you put on your earphones and listen to whatever playlist fits your mood. everyone else is doing so because without that music, the commute will feel longer than it already is.
you press the stop sign, get off the bus and walk to the end of the street to get to your building. you ride up the escalator and the welcoming faces of your officemates greet you a good morning. you eat your breakfast, drink your coffee, check your emails and work.
the clock strikes 6 and you prepare to leave.
you walk to the bus stop. you get off. you take the lift to your flat. unlock the door. find something to cook. watch tv. talk with your housemates. you feel sleepy.
you sleep and in your dreams you know, the same thing will happen the next day.
they tell you its not easy and you know now that its true. far from home, far from anything familiar, far from the life you know.
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