I refuse to be defined by my passport — both literally and metaphorically. Surely there’s more to an individual than his personal identification number and/or the color of his passport?
There was a time, not so long ago, when I traveled with my parents as a post-Soviet kid, and each time we pulled out our exotic-looking, burgundy-colored passports, which the foreign immigration officials weren’t yet accustomed to, they would shower us with numerous questions about Georgia, including the most common: “Country, not the state, correct?” I would then proudly boast about our nation; the iconic Georgian polyphonic music; the first …read more
Source: The Huffington Post
