Those paths that you miss when you leave your country.

I was listening to a song that brings back memories of a friend who, while looking at the impressive and majestic freeway and the subway as a masterpiece of human development, still longs for that dirt path that leads to his home. That home he left abandoned when he had to leave.

Leave his homeland because of a war, because of some bad guys who thought they owned everyone. Many of us had to leave one day, longing to return and to be on those paths that lead to your home.

Those dirt roads, those paths that marked your childhood where you played as a kid, and with each day that passes you miss them and long to go back. The problem is that when you return you realize you’ve already lost, and you become an outcast who doesn’t know where he belongs. You turn into someone who is neither from here nor from there.

And that’s what’s happening to many people around here.

How much would you be willing to pay to walk those magical paths again?

Thanks for coming.