 
More often than not, living as a migrant means eternally existing in a long-distance emotional marathon. The suitcase is never fully shut, yet old realities must be cast aside even temporarily, to make room for the new: new identities, new cultures, new accents, new rituals and, in my case, predominantly GMO food.
 
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                        