once my parents said
that we had to move

away from my home town,
my birth place,
my comfort zone.

I found myself
in Paris then,
hardly not speaking any french,
missing the beaches of Cali
and thinking of better times

Sitting in a little cafe
near Rue Bonaparte
sharing a cigarette
with a gray-haired stranger

philosophizing about life
and feeling the sand of
Santa Monica Beach
on my skin

Suddenly a stranger asked me
something I didn't understand

so I stuttered
menez-moi à la maison,
à l'endroit auquel j'appartiens