I was born in the warm heart of Bangladesh, where monsoon winds carried stories and my young eyes watched foreign visitors with wonder. I never imagined that one day I'd stand on the other side of that gaze, walking into new lands with the same wide eyes.
Moving to Singapore shifted my rhythm. I learnt to listen to new languages, new silences. I missed home in quiet ways: in smells, in smiles, in the feel of familiar rain. I asked myself:
Where is home, really?
Three years into life in Hanoi, that question still follows me. But the answer softened at RMIT. In classrooms where ideas crossed cultures, and in projects that asked me to think not just critically, but creatively, I began to see that home isn't always a place. It's a feeling that grows where you dare to live fully. It lives in the courage to stay, the curiosity to connect and the comfort you build from the unfamiliar.
"“I began to see that home isn't always a place. It's a feeling that grows where you dare to live fully."
Home is a fluid thing. And maybe it's not where you're from, or even where you're going, but the spaces between where you feel safe enough to be yourself, to keep learning.
That's what RMIT gave me. A place between maps and memories. A place to belong.
