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There’s a particular kind of homesickness that doesn’t go away — even after years, even when life seems settled. I often miss my homeland, but deep down I know that going back wouldn’t bring the comfort I long for. Too much time has passed. Too much has changed — not just there, but in me.

If I returned, I’d be a stranger there too.

That’s something many expats carry quietly. We try to build a new version of “home” where we are — not by fully integrating or erasing our roots, but by making something in between. A place stitched together from memory, experience, and daily effort.

Living in Germany, I’ve met many kind and respectful people. Outside of the rigid systems — the bureaucracy and expectations — I’ve often felt genuine human warmth. But I still feel a deep void at times. It’s the emotional gap between two very different cultures: one expressive, warm, and collective; the other more reserved, rational, and individualistic.

I don’t expect to bridge that gap completely. But I try to find balance. I try to make something honest from it. That’s why I’ve slowly let go of the professional path I followed for so many years — a path I walked alone, with effort and persistence — and instead turned fully toward art and writing.

Art has saved me in many ways. Not in a dramatic or romantic sense — but as a companion. A quiet space where I could return to myself.

I write these reflections especially for those expats who don’t consider themselves artists — because I believe art isn’t reserved for a certain group. It’s not about talent, success, or recognition. It’s a way of living. A way of coping, making sense, staying soft in a hard world.

You don’t have to become an artist to let art accompany you. Start with small gestures — writing, sketching, weaving, photographing, even just noticing. It’s like going to the gym: at first it feels unfamiliar, but over time it becomes a rhythm. It strengthens something deep inside.

You don’t have to fit in to belong. You can build a thread of meaning — invisible perhaps, but real — and stitch your own kind of home.