For sometime now I have been feeling as if I am trapped in a bubble which is floating by as the rest of the world goes about doing their day to day things. My life here in Brussels seems abstract like some painting one would chance upon at a gallery. A painting one could gaze at for hours and still not completely decipher what all it is trying to say.
Initially I kept trying to establish contact with parents, relatives and friends in India hoping that their voices over internet or telephone would help me hang on to what my mind perceives as real world, but as days turn into months I think I am slowly slipping into the comfort zone of the bubble. I have now stopped sitting near the outer surface and gazing anxiously at the outside and instead moved up backwards, wrapped a warm blanket around myself, taken a out a book to read.
I realize I have done this when I start writing to people about my life here and in that moment I am aware how precious my little bubble is. When it breaks, all the dust would settle on me and that would be the end of the dream. I know it will be harsh and I am not going to like it but knowing that does not prepare me for the next change in life.
What I am trying to say is that, I think the time taken to step over and embrace a change is the time one feels as if one is caught in a bubble. The time before the change seems more real than the current state and it is only a matter of time when the bubble becomes a reality, but again only until the next change.