VALIDITY

How can I let go of the past if the past is the only thread linking me to Italy? How can I let go if it’s the only proof I have that I have ever been Italian?

This is about using all of my energies to not let my roots die. It’s the sadness of not having anything to show that I’m Italian on the outside, except the broken childhood memories in my head. It asks the question: if I fully embrace my new life will I still be considered a valid Italian? Was I ever a valid Italian, I wonder sometimes? Surely, if Italy had cared enough about the lower-class people like me, I would not have moved at all. This piece is about recognizing that the UK has given me so much in the past 6 years than Italy has ever given me in 15 years. When I was younger, I used to fully claim to be Italian first and Indian second; it’s about the doubt that has crept in between that sentence over the years.

It’s about me being a fool that wants to suffer because, given the chance, I would not have changed anything of the past 21 years I’ve lived. So, in conclusion, sometimes I feel like I am falling but really I’m not; I’ve never flown so high in my whole life.