Hola! So we talked about my 2 month long vacation in the previous post, and I promised to dig through the details of it in my following post. Here we are!

I changed a lot this year. Wasn’t this bloody 2016 a totally diabolic experience for everyone, but surely the one that changed us all more than any year so far?! For me, it was like someone pulled me through some vacuum of realization, content, balance. I never really cared too much what people thought about me, but I did somewhat followed the paths of current times.

I followed what everyone was doing, to some degree, both online and offline, a.k.a real life. Then the summer came and everyone started to plan their vacations, my friends oversees started to call me, my parents, and everyone had the same line: “When are you coming home?”

Then I thought about it. I should go home. I wasn’t home for 3 years. It’s time to go. I didn’t see my people, my family. I should go home.

Then I thought some more, and realized, I should. Go home. But what home is, is not necessarily what everyone thinks. What is home? Where is home? Where is my home? The place I was born? The place where rarely anyone truly understands me or wants to understand me. Or is the home the first place I felt like truly home at?

I decided to take 2 months off, from the web, blog, life and yes, go home. But to my home. Home as the city, but also, and moreover a home like the place I made myself what I am today.

Do you ever had that feeling of forgetting what you are? Of life slamming you to so many directions while punching you in the gut on occasion more often than not? When it’s hard to even remember anymore as to what made you, and how you once knew where you’re headed?

See, I wanted to use my break, my summer to find that spot, to reappear to myself, to get reminded who I am, and what I achieved so far.

New York is always that place for me. What formed me. I needed to see. I needed to see the past struggle that I undermined in the present, I needed to walk those streets I walked then, insecure in the person I could became.

I started in Queens, where I first lived. I wanted to see the path of understanding you have to have a path. A journey. You need to achieve things slowly. Start in Queens, work hard for 5 years, move to Manhattan. But not before paying your dues, not before you slowly got yourself there.

Go to Harlem where you had few of the most eye opening experiences in your life, the people you met, seeing their struggle, seeing how with so little they create so much. Harlem was always a place for me where pure, raw coolness lived, no matter how much money or success you have under your name, you can have nothing and be no one and be the coolest motherfucker on the planet.

Walk the streets of Manhattan where you feel your hundred percent, and understand why do you want to live in Los Angeles so persistently, on the streets that do not understand you most of the time, try to understand what is it exactly you want to achieve, prove, what is it that force that keeps you trying?

Sit with people that you can say whatever you want, however you want, really think how you got there, how long it took you to get there, the breeziness of the moments that still keep persisting, how ever many years pass by.

Why are you so free in this space, in this town, when you are never hundred percent free, relaxed, yourself anywhere else on this planet?

I searched every day for answers, walked the streets, talked and walked tall and wide, and tried to revive what I am.

Am I all that only at that space?

And how can I find a way to be exactly that, anywhere I go?

The best vacation of my entire life.

Going ‘home”.