Well my child, she has worked hard to have a passport to many places, none however can she call her home. Each time she crosses a border she wears many disguises, she tastes the spices, she sees the sights, hears the stories and leaves still with no sense of where she should be. Through time she has come to call the uncertainty home, to thrive in the lack of belonging, to eat from a table that it is not hers. Eventually she will be rooted out, exposed and punished accordingly. Indeed this has happened already when she crossed the border and called on the systems of a society to help her when she had no one else to turn to – they of course turned on her. They made certain she knew who she was, that she was not one of them, that she would never be one of them and that for her own good she should learn to just quietly sup from a table that she does not belong at. She has no where else to go.