Standing in front of the door, just before trying to escape from my homeland, I quickly said goodbye to the cats, barely believing that my plan would succeed.

Since early childhood, in every form of social interaction, I somehow always felt alien, foreign, and distant.

I have never taken an interest in social groups, political views, shared passions, religious communities, or patriotic sentiments.

I always felt alienated — in school, at university, in the city, in my country.

My attempt to escape turned into success, marking my second birthday.
I haven’t seen my cats for two years now. I often wonder: what does my disappearance mean to them?
For years we spent every day together. Then I stepped out the door and never returned. Do they think I died? Or that I abandoned and betrayed them?
Perhaps, most likely, they believe I died.

But they probably don’t worry about these things — they are just cats. They will be happy to see me, wagging their tails and rubbing against me with soft fur and affection. For them, there is no time, no death, no betrayal.

And here I am: once again standing behind the glass windows of a train, a spaceship, a passage’s. Ever the alien, I suspect new social groups, political interests, and different battles unfold.

Perhaps I’ll never again meet my cats, take a part, or truly belong.
But I will be always happy about — tomorrow, the chance to observe, truly closeness to another person.