Last week, I traveled back to a life previously lived. For seven days, I reveled in reunions with old friends, feasted on Beijing delicacies, breathed in (relatively) smog-free air, and bargained up a storm at Beijing's famous Silk Street. For seven days, I imagined what life might have been like had I stayed. Just over a year ago, I had reached a fork in the road: four years in Beijing was long enough to have become truly immersed in the language and culture; what did I imagine for my life moving forward? Obviously, the choice I made at that time brought me back to the country of my birth, the incomparable United States of America. But was it the right choice? I had seven days to figure that out. I arrived in Beijing on a Monday
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