What is the former self? Is it the self we left behind when we were young? Or when we lived in another country? Or another house? Or with another? Was it the person who went to sleep the night before?
Right now I feel somewhat disembodied, as though the caffeine has kicked in or the alcohol has worn off. The only thing reminding me I'm human is the hollow ache I feel in my chest. Like the scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, when the scary Indian – speaking Sinhalese of course – rips the beating heart out of the chest of his victim.
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| Fig 1.1 Amrish Puri committing brazen cultural suicide. |
That's what happens when you are taken from your life (albeit voluntarily) and transplanted (if you'll forgive the term) into another. After all, your life isn't where you are, it's what you are, and who you're with. My life is a long way away, and I have clearly left my body with it.
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| Fig 1.2 The shadow of my former self. |
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