這種恐懼的背后，潛藏了怎樣的不安感??？在曾經(jīng)的歲月中，他們是否經(jīng)歷過哪怕一次的鮮活的生命 是否曾感覺到，自己終于嘗到了作為一個(gè)人而贏得的愛與珍視？

不管是什么原因，不爭(zhēng)的事實(shí)是，生命始終在變化著、成長(zhǎng)著。現(xiàn)在的你，跟剛剛讀到這句話時(shí)的那個(gè)你已經(jīng)有所不同。

“人無法兩次踏進(jìn)同一條河流，因?yàn)橐磺薪詣?dòng)?！?/p>

6歲那年，懷著巨大的悲傷，我生平第一次離開了自己的家，而且知道將不再回去。

在那些日子里，將痛苦遺忘被認(rèn)為是個(gè)明智的選擇。永遠(yuǎn)不要回首，盡可能地用你現(xiàn)有的東西去構(gòu)建一個(gè)光明的未來。

在我成長(zhǎng)的歲月中，始終懷著一種悵惘：一種我始終無法理解的惆悵。在回到家鄉(xiāng)以前，我以為它一直就在心里的某個(gè)地方，已經(jīng)成為了我的一部分。

河中間的那片土地看起來還是老樣子，河的這一邊，金黃色的蘆葦?shù)谋砻娼Y(jié)上了霜，在陽光的照射下閃耀著，被厚厚的積雪壓著的樹投下了長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的影子。這就是我們兒時(shí)的四季游樂場(chǎng)，童年平靜時(shí)光的天堂。

而河的另一邊，是黑色森林的入口，深而暗的河水伸向了我們無從所知的另一頭，充滿著危險(xiǎn)，卻也顯得那般強(qiáng)大而神秘。至于那陡峭的河岸，那曾是孩子們的禁地，對(duì)我們充滿危險(xiǎn)的吸引力。

我的個(gè)性和對(duì)世界的認(rèn)識(shí)正是在這二者中間形成、發(fā)展起來的。這曾經(jīng)是我的搖籃，是我從未走出過的搖籃，盡管我們一直在否定它。

隨著我內(nèi)心的創(chuàng)傷在逐漸痊愈，我的眼中充滿了淚水。40年來的第一次，我體會(huì)到了什么叫完整。

A place where I had never expected to find myself: the ancient city of Philippopolis, capital of Thrace. A well preserved amphitheatre, golden in the morning sun.

All alone, I look around: Row upon row of concentric stone circles divided into equal sectors. Lines radiating ? some reaching for infinity, others anchored by the transversal of the stage. Light and shadow playing over a balanced blend of growth, reality and potential.

Hovering somewhere near the centre of the circle, I try to work out why it all seems so familiar. Like being back in my very own landscape. Though I know that I have never been in Thrace before. Not in this life ? or any other.

No ? it’s not the location; it’s the configuration. The geometric concept that produced the amphitheatre: a Greek marriage of structure and drama, perfectly arranged.

Ever since it first entered my consciousness ? whenever that may have been ? this figure has persisted as my guiding star. The ideal I always reached for. Definition of my aims. It led to architecture, theatre, astrology; conditioned every word I wrote.

The essence of my mind in three dimensions, graphically depicted by the amphitheatre. It took a long time to arrive at that picture. But it was worth waiting for.

I am a transnational. One of those people who leave their country of origin, sacrifice the security of birth right, give up an established identity honed by background and education.

All for the dubious pleasure of starting anew, unconditioned, unencumbered, naked as the day you were born; even at the price of being relegated to the bottom rung of the social ladder. Everyone, down to the beggar in the street ? provided he is in his own country ? is better placed than a recently arrived immigrant.

Initially you struggle along, ignorant of procedures that all others take for granted, stuttering in flawed idioms, unable to assert yourself; unwittingly violating established codes and customs. You behave, and you are treated, like someone mentally and socially deficient. Courtesy and respect are in short supply.

As a clever immigrant you pick up the challenge and do your best to assimilate, fast and furiously, until your new countrymen can no longer tell that you’re not ‘one of them’. But is that really what you want  Go through life masquerading as something you are not, and never will be: ‘one of them’