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Eduard’s story stretches out from Armenia to Istanbul where he is living together with his family as a migrant since ten years. Out of the overly crowded grounds of his kind that nevertheless seem foreign to him – which is Turkey – he whispers the following, ‘Yes, I am living in Turkey now, but by any means, you cannot call that living; I am merely existing. That is because I am a foreigner here. Outside of home, a foreigner will always feel foreign; he will always be longing for home.’
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