When an exile reaches the foreign shore, it is not an arrival, for only a return to the native shore can be an arrival for the exile, but neither is it a departure, for the departure was accomplished the moment that the exile left the shores of home. The foreign shore, therefore, is neither a coming nor a going. It is an eternal between, a place that is never here and a time that is never now.
We are all exiles in this way, however much we succeed in forgetting it. We are all out of place and out of time. We all inhabit this eternal between, exiles from home, haunting a foreign shore.