my home is europe
The day the UK decided to exit Europe, for me as for many Europeans working in London (as well as for actually most of the people I know there), has been one of the saddest I can remember in the last few years.
It wasn’t just about uncertainty; it was rather a huge, sudden, and frankly totally unexpected loss of identity. Which made me realize something I had never been clearly aware of: my home is not Italy, it is not the UK: my home is Europe.
As part of a generation born and raised nomadic by default, the idea of suddenly losing the freedom to move between countries at will and to call home places, people and landscapes which are not our native ones, is almost unconceivable.
I spent a couple of days mourning, unable to shake off a sense of impending doom. Then, I suddenly knew what I had to do. I was going to show the UK what it was going to miss.