Day 1

It was a cold sunny day when I landed in San Francisco. North Korea was sleeping. Germany was sleeping. A very young astrophysics student with ancient Greek name and Russian roots was sitting on the windowsill in Berlin, his eyes and mouth open into the sweeping suspension of the approaching dawn, but other than that, it was calm and silent.

I’ve just moved all of me from one side of the planet to the other, whisking above the everlasting Arctic ice inside of a pale grey pixel, indistinguishable, nonseparable, compressed with all my unobtrusive luggage and overwhelming immigrant fears into one airplane tracking line that reflected in my mom’s glasses: board 431 has arrived, welcome to California.

It was a cold sunny day smeared across the glossy Earth’s surface in sight of invariable Sun shining on all the bowed backs and high foreheads, glinting on sharp wineglasses and silent lips — not really distinguishable, not really tellable, compressed into one pale blue dot among everlasting strands of dark matter above windblown unearthly mountain peak.

I’ve posted a photo of my new house on Facebook, captioning it “Finally home” — just to convince myself I have one — as the dimensions kept unfolding, and matter mixing into the thick cocktail of emptiness.

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