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It’s been a month since I came back to Taipei. There were many screaming and hugging sessions as I caught up with many faces I’ve missed. I wrote a poem everyday in April (check out #escapril), watched one too many movies, caught up with my tea shop cravings, and roamed around the little alleys I love.

Coming back made me realize how short and traumatically educational the three months in Seoul was. I also have forgotten how complacent I can be within the comforts of home — I’m a proud homebody sometimes. Amongst an abundance of complacency, I’ve regurgitated the thoughts hidden at the back drawer of my mind, wo/andering where this liminal space is going to take me. A lot of cleaning took place: dusting out my room, repainting our house, throwing out old clothes, finding out that my twenty-year old bed is now infested by bedbugs, and talking over and over again about the what-happened’s.

After a conversation of only five-ish minutes, Danny had me decided on going to Hungary for a month and a half. I told him of the unkind culture of Seoul, about the extreme excitement and frightening sunlessness that is theatre work, and the thought process of how I don’t want to waste another minute of my life just finding a job just to get by and just for the sake of it. I’ve known for the last few years that I’m called to empower the Roma community in Hungary.

During our short talk, I was reminded of how my scope of reality is still composed of if-you-want-it-just-do-it, a world with direct causes and consequences. Of all people, I should know better that events are not maths and human relationships aren’t fairytales. My heart was ready to dive in headfirst but Danny caught me of my impracticalities. He suggested I first stay in Budapest for a month and a half while two different mission trip teams will come and go. He told me to really think about what I want to accomplish and really be practical during the stay — to consciously build relationships with the people in ministry and learn about my own capabilities. He booked my tickets immediately afterwards.

I’m still on the path of unraveling my hopes for this new venture. Two weeks have passed since my plane tickets have been booked but my heart’s full of uncollected feelings and stories of life and death (of which I won’t get into details) spin around in an ominous whirlpool. Bedbugs are still crawling somewhere in my bedroom and my half-eaten avocado in the fridge is slowly rotting. I’ve told myself that I won’t wallow, today I write — I’ll write and stay grateful for breezy May, cozy soups, and lengthy hugs. A trip of awakening is in store for this homebody, ready or not.

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