What makes someone move to a new country? Wanting to be someone else, wanting to put on a new past? What do I get out of it? I get a return to childhood, where I was a comfortable, cushioned foreigner. I get to walk down the street and look at the leaves and not have to understand anyone. I get to not have to worry about not fitting in, for there's no way I could fit in. I get to be a ghost. I get to be an onlooker, understanding no-one, nothing. I get to be a bystander. Is anything that happens to me here real?
What does she get out of it? The same thing, it's a way to hide. Maybe we're more alike than I'd like to think. She gets to run away, to pretend. I wouldn't say that's what I want, but perhaps bystanders on my pavements, in my country, would disagree.
The light is different, you know, in different countries.