I’d lived on an island for most of my life.
33 years of my life to be exact.
One day, I packed all my things in a suitcase and took a plane to this place.
My entire world was inside a suitcase and 33 years of history were left behind. Family, friends, acquaintances, behaviors, traditions, memories…
I was off to make new ones on a country I didn’t know with a language I didn’t speak within a society that didn’t want me.
I was probably at a low point in my life, but I was following my partner, my friend, my companion, the love o f my life. I could not bear my life without her.
So a sacrifice was made.
I move to Bridgeport, Connecticut. A city between New York and Boston. The most populous city in the state of Connecticut. I learned the language, made new friends, found a job, made a family.
Bridgeport is on the Long Island Sound and every once in a while, I go to the shore, to watch the waves and think about my life.
Is not the same sea. Is a memory, is a facsimile, a proxy; a suitable replacement…
The allegory was not lost in me.
I have been here for 23 years, almost as long as I lived on that island.
I can say that my life has changed for the better and that overall I am happy. I have the things that make me happy. My wife, my family, my health.
I will probably never go back.
The waves of the sea are going to be the reminder of that distant past…
Don't wait any longer, stone girl
Miguel will not return
The sea has taken him prisoner
Over a woman it would not let him have…
—Mecano, Still Life