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The phrase a stranger in your own home is thrown around loosely; quite ironically, the first time that saying hit home was on my trip to Sri Lanka, my country, my origin. Whilst standing in the streets among the tuk-tuk’s and street food stalls – all the things that give Sri Lanka its unique flair – I felt detached, separated like an unwanted guest standing in your living room. I felt a wall, preventing myself from indulging in my heritage. People around me were laughing, screaming, conversing in their smooth sounding Singhalese while my English tongue rested still in my mouth. They turn to me and say Ayubowan and the instant I reply with my thick Australian hello the wall comes crashing down. Having lived around the world it is hard to find your home, when simply your language separates you from your grounding it is easy to feel lost and culturally homeless. From my childhood home and my mother’s stories I have picked up a few phrases, I use akki to talk about my sister, aiya for my brother. Yet still, my Singhalese lacks the authentic Sri Lankan accent and pronunciation that comes from a mother tongue. I hope one day I can learn Singhalese and slowly break down the wall between myself and my heritage; one word at a time.