the american accent
You moved to Luxembourg almost a year ago. Friends back home insist you developed "a god-awful American drawl". You don’t hear it. Or maybe, you’re pretending not to notice it. Somehow, you look different. You feel different. You feel jaded; evolved. You feel indifferent to most things that used to bother you as an islander. You're more prone to being individualistic. And maybe, all of this was shaped by the people you met here. Some, were cruel — so lost that they wouldn’t know which way is up even if the archangel Gabriel himself pointed a bright pink neon arrow to the Heavens. Every time you meet, it’s a nice conversation. Then it leads to something else. Clothes slip off. Gasps start. And, then, it’s always the same — an intimate moment followed by some form of meaningful conversation. You think, in that moment, “ OK, maybe they're not such a dick .” Then, there's the awkward drink at the White Rose months later. It’s the same question, on repeat: what is i...