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Pushing through the hordes of individuals, I catch a glimpse of my train’s boarding check-ins. sort of a captain frantically seeking a tower in a very storm, I haul myself across the ocean of human bodies, making an attempt to remain afloat, to avoid being stranded – or damaged – within the dustiest town within the world: national capital, capital of each China and smogginess.

Luckily, I realize my train with many time to spare, and while not being changed into a hotcake, that is usually a and. The train conductor in his freshly ironed dark inexperienced uniform checks my price tag and welcomes ME to the train. At last, it's time to come home to Shanghai.

This is the summer of 2012 and Shanghai isn’t to be my home for for much longer. Another week and that i can cross the world to begin a replacement life in a very foreign land referred to as Charlotte. however that is home? The place i'm deed or the place i'm going? Arrival or departure? sort of a compass with a broken magnetic strip, I can’t decide wherever to decision home.

This uncertainty is unsettling, deed ME consumed by worry. I take the items They Carried from my backpack and run my fingers over the marginally crumpled pages. It doesn’t take ME long to lose myself; I’m sucked in, de-escalated, and shot off into the space by this book of recollections.

They say the most effective books tell you what you already recognize, resounding together with your own thoughts and emotions. As I scan the items They Carried on the train to Shanghai, it's as if the tempest of my thoughts has become unraveled and spelled out on paper. The overflowing sense of hyper-reality in Tim O’Brien’s words of warfare spills into my world. His words somehow become my words, his recollections become my recollections. Despite the high speed of the train on the tracks, my mind is command in a very absolutely still state – unfree between the narrative of the book and also the narrative of my very own life.

I desire I ought to be disturbed, however I’m not. I scan the last page and shut the book, staring out the window at the shining fish ponds and peaceful rice paddies. I desire i'm a speck of dirt out there, floating, content, happy. I notice that i'm reception between worlds. I speak each English and Chinese.

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