I believe that most original expats have a strong flee instinct, paired with a pinch of adventurousness and naivety. We move because we believe it’s going to be so much better there than here. We move because boredom scares us. Because we enjoy being the underdog. We need to explore and challenge ourselves and, above all, experience. When talking about original expats, I mean people that move across countries more than once. That don’t move for the love of a person or because their employer asks them to. I’m talking about all the people that move just for the sake of moving. Apparently, this is rare or used to be rare, as often times when I end up in conversations about my moves, people keep asking me about the ‘why’. There is no simple answer.
My sister turned 18 a few weeks ago. As I couldn’t be there in person, I wanted to write her a nice card. After some reflection, a few heavy gulps and maybe – just maybe – a tiny tear, I produced a pretty decent card plus the following: “As both you and I adore David Bowie, I want to give you a taste of the future, based on Bowie songs.
I like to get lost in other people’s thoughts. I don’t want people to tell me what they think. I want to regard what they create and draw my own conclusions. I think that’s why I like reading, analyzing poetry and lyrics and, above all, looking at art. Creative expressions are a direct portal into someone’s head. Much more direct than a conversation. Of course, the connections and conclusions I draw may be totally wrong, but does that really matter? As a self-proclaimed storyteller, I find meaning in the story my head creates around something. For years I’ve been toying with the idea of creating short stories based on the works of some of my favorite artists. Most famous works have been interpreted thousands of times. But that’s not at all the point for me. I want to look at a picture with a clear slate, grab the spark in ignites in my head and turn it into a story.