In theory I am against the notion of opting for a Stabucks in foreign fields. In amongst a wealth of difference and diversity why is it that I breathe a deep sign of relief when I see that Rapunzel locked emblem in the distance? I reach for the familiar, a brief respite from the confusion and disorientation. I wander the streets and piece together my sparse lingo, not recognising any sign or any sight.
So when I see that green stamp marking the street corner I retreat, and nurse that sturdy mug that is filled with warmth and comfort. I watch the passing faces through the barrier which dangles me in limbo between home and away.
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