A Little Animation Figure on a Screen

Hello from Korea!
After a long, and somewhat complicated and erratic flight, I arrived back at my little home, in the big, bustling city of Seoul. So very odd, you know. I feel like a little animation figure on a screen who, having walked through a doorway, has stepped out the other side into an entirely new world. And the world I left behind, such a short time ago, has so absolutely disappeared behind me, that it seems I’ve just awaked from a dream, and nothing more. No time seems to have lapsed between when I closed my eyes in June, and opened them again three days ago. People still bustle happily outside my house, the city lights still flash and blink with regular chaos, the air is still warm and muggy, and my house is just as I left it, only perhaps a little smaller looking. But, however my senses belie the reality that I’ve been away for two months and a half, I know that it cannot all have been a dream, unless I shrunk while sleeping. Ten weeks ago I was brimfull of confidence. Now I feel as small as that animation figure on the screen. My house is very quiet. The large silence fills it, wrapping me around. I feel intimidated by small things, and know that it’s because, in that other world or dream, I was able to communicate effortlessly and fluently, and now I cannot. I tire easily, because my internal clock is still set to the time of that other world, which is seventeen hours behind this world. It all conspires to make me sigh. But school begins in a week, and I’m pretty confident that, when jet lag wears off, and when I have more to fill my time with, I’ll be ready to set that world on the shelf, and tackle this world with renewed enthusiasm. Meanwhile, thank you for praying for me.
Elisabeth