I feel so hurt.
It’s been nearly 10 years that i didn’t take a good look on the place where i grew up, the citadel of Bastia.
All the places where i have great memories of my happy child life have been surrounded by concrete, and new buildings painted in yellow and mandarine colors.
They built a bricks wall instead of my former school’s door, can’t enter anymore.
It’s all so new, under this terrible sun it was just my memories that they assassinated. I wanted to sit down somewhere and write a postcard to a friend, but i couldn’t find any place that was un-changed, any rock un-excavated, any tree un-killed. I wanted to sit down on a quiet bank, but they were all squatted by noisy tourists.
I just wanted to shout at them. Shout “go away, MY place not YOURS”.
But it’s not my place anymore. It’s not even my life anymore. Childhood is someone else’s life.
I feel so hurt.
Your words