I have two flags right there.
Right there, on my binary showcase.
One says where I was born.
The other, where I live.
Both of them are the same.
Treasures, skies and seas, and blood.
I wanted to change one into the Rising Sun.
Variety seemed fashionable.
A flag so unique seemed fashionable.
Showing off this love seemed fashionable.
But then I thought it was a really stupid idea.
I’m not there.
I wish I were there.
My heart is there.
My heart is with him.
Maybe his heart is here too.
Our hearts are mingled.
I won’t be there until my body is there.
I can’t pretend that I’m all shiny there when I’m really here.
Speaking the language is not being there.
Eating the food is not being there either.
And I wasn’t born there.
I wish I were, but I wasn’t.
I can’t deny my nationality.
My unvisable nationality.
I am what I am.
Flags will change when life does change.
Otherwise, I’m just a poseur.
And then I type again, co.