I cannot call a place home if I have not spent the most important holidays there.
My heart was jumping hard for the first Chinese new year in Beijing.
Second round of dinner and party involved a lot of alcohol, a lot of outstanding talented Chinese people, an apple bigger than my face, a “Fo Shou” plant resample of my hand, and a fish the length of my body.
As the firework started sprinting in the sky and gunpowder falling on my face, I let go of the year that almost killed me. I was very drunk, was hugging my very good friends, Beijing is home.