I was eight years old in 1991, when Switzerland ended family reunification from the former Yugoslavia at the end of the year. My father worked in Switzerland with his father. He decided to bring his family to Switzerland. I have been here ever since. When I arrived here, everything was the same but quite different. A different language used for the same things as there. People did the same things but somehow different. In Kosovo I had lessons at home because the schools were closed. In Switzerland I went to school. Everything was somehow the same but different. I was able to deal with all this very well. That was probably due to my natural curiosity. But what broke my heart until today was the fact that I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go back to the house where I grew up. I couldn’t be in the yard, riding my bike or visiting my cousin. In retrospect I know that he was very disappointed in me and he didn’t understand why I didn’t visit him. He thought that Switzerland was a neighboring village. Back then there was no Skype and all that. Only after about five or more years, when we had received the residence permit – with which we were allowed to leave and re-enter – could I visit my cousin. Fortunately he was still the same. But the house and the yard had become much smaller. Somehow everything was like a dream. What is happening right now reminds me of the moment when I first got on a plane to come to Switzerland.