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  • It's the evening of 5th of May 2012. Tomorrow I'll be going to the French consulate of London to make a choice for the French president for the five years to come.

    I keep reading the programs of each candidate, I keep thinking of how France used to be before I left, how I kept seeing it every time I went back. I keep thinking of the first round of those elections and how the extremists parties did well - too well.

    I wonder if I can make a choice. I don't seem to be happy with either candidate. It's not that I want something perfect, but I'm not sure I can make any of the compromises I'm given. The goods and bads don't seem to even into something I can live with.

    And I wonder. Should I really make a choice? I don't know. I still have a few hours to decide.

    Those elections are important - are as any elections - but for me they are doubly important. They make me reflect on my time in London, they made me think of all I did, how I soared. They make me think of my time in France, how I felt cut off, how I longed for something else.

    Is it because the grass is always greener outside of your garden? I don't know. I'm not sure.

    Maybe the choice is so difficult for me because in a way it is a choice of whether of not I want to be identified as French. It is part of my legacy, part of who I am and I can't - don't want to - deny it. But I don't want to be French - not anymore.

    I guess those elections will be the catalyst of something for me. It'll be a test. Five years to change. Five years for France to prove me I can still belong there and be proud of it. Five years to dissuade me to ask for a dual-citizenship.

    Five years to make France a part of me in the present and not a legacy I remember fondly but don't like anymore.

    We'll see. There is still five years to go. For France. For me. For an identity to build itself.
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