What does it mean to be “at home”? Whether it was his choice or whether he was forced to leave “his” land, doesn’t the migrant create a form of transitional space, half real, half fantasized – his ‘interi- or land’? The land of nostalgia, subject to the constant pull of the “proximity of the distant”, in which the “lost country is the furthest of the close and the closest of the distant” and where nostalgia can be defined as the ailment of putting roots down and tearing them out. There is also the nostalgia of exile, of a world without roots but “that never closes, full of different ‘similar people’, like me but not like me.”
And how do you know you’re home, how do you recognize “your island”, are you real- ly ever “home” anywhere? Conversely, doesn’t having a “home” amount to consider- ing the rest of the world as foreign? To be attached to a place, to belong to it, like an element within a given envi- ronment and group, isn’t that to make oneself a foreigner to everyone else, and be not just “me” but “the one who lives here”?