So, what do you do then?
This is a question that often crops up in those perfunctory small-talk conversations that you are either forced or cajoled into by societal norms. Right now, I am struggling with my response, and London is not the kind of place where people want to hear that you simply don’t know.
Before I went travelling in the Americas, I had a strong sense of identity. I was studying a master’s in Human Rights at a prestigious university; I was heavily involved in political activism, and was respected for my contribution to the international solidarity movement’s efforts to delegitimise the racist state of Israel. I had purpose, I had direction and I had passion for a cause. I had a home, a fat cat that snored at the end of my bed, a wardrobe, a personal trainer and the semblance of a fairly stable life in London.