Airports have got to be the busiest places on earth. You are literally surrounded by swarms of people from across the globe. And yet, airports can be the most isolating places on earth. Surrounded by people, I feel alone, isolated, cut-off from everything I know and love and some things that I hate.

We have it easy. You are one button away from reaching anyone, anytime, anywhere. I can’t imagine how the earlier generations must have felt. Thrown into a new world and existence. Cut off. Forced to retreat back to square one. Starting from zero. Trying to make it in a new world as an alien, an outcast. Being ignored, or worse, being insulted and ridiculed. Maybe I’m over romanticizing things. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

My experience as a Lebanese expat has not been easy, but it wasn’t hard either. After all these years, what I am left with is that I have no home. Not really. I mean I love Lebanon to my very core but is that enough? To love from afar? This is the ultimate curse of the expats. We are always the circle trying to squeeze in the square. And it never fits. No matter how bad we want it to. No matter how hard we try. We are always the outcasts. The outsiders. We just make the best of it to survive, and hopefully thrive.