The United States.
American expressions give me goose bumps like no other language can.
American movies shaped me.
American novels hit the right spot.
American history still has that electrifying cappuchino effect on me.
I want to tour American Civil War battlefields.
I want to visit the city that refused to celebrate the 4th of July for almost a century. (Do you know which city am talking about?)
I want to stroll about Seattle in the rain.
I want to float down the James river in Virginia.
I wanna touch the names on the Vietnam War Memorial.
I know more about the US than about any other country, including the country I was born in, including the countries listed on my master’s degree Eastern European cultures and languages, including the country I currently reside in.
When I was supposed to be reading Russian novels I was reading tomes on US history.
When I was supposed to watch Russian movies I was memorizing hard-hitting lines from the documentary Dear America: Letters home from Vietnam.
I have always had to force myself to listen to songs in any other language than English and I consider myself to be a language freak.
My mind operates in English.
I was reading an American book this morning.
I am listening to a documentary on US history while am writing this blog post.
I can tell you more about the 2016 presidential campaign than about any election in my home country.
You get the picture.
The only thing am always afraid when it comes to going to the US is that I will never wanna come back to sleepy Europe.
Other options, for very, very different reasons:
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