“An illness called nostalgia, which often is cured with a sprinkle of love, some lemon, a few raisins and many slices of avocado.

Wine is a yellow sun in a crystal goblet. One taste of Chile's earth and sky could delight the entire world.

Maybe once you are an exile, you always are an exile. Always missing somewhere else, always carrying a bit from here and a bit from there and always with a bit of a broken heart.

A refugee - a beautiful word, a beautiful thing. An exile. That means I am a traveler of the world and I belong to nothing but the things I love.”