My kingdom for a passport

-Sorry for the bad English.

My kingdom is far, far away, in front of a warm sea and nested in arid sands that dance to the tune of the December breeze. My kingdom is one of chaos, heat and exposed toes. I ruled over the paternal castle, undisputed for two decades and fiercely battled side by side with other nobles for the conquest of the twenty blocks we called our Barranquilla. But even the royal bliss wasn’t enough for this princess, who wanted to see the world more than anything else, and following the tradition of other heirs, traded the lavish comfort of the palace and the loyalty of the subjects for the adventures and the mysteries of foreign lands. I left many dear things behind to pursue the dreams etched on my skin, not only I waved my comfort foods goodbye along with the endemic bacteria they carry, I also had to give up the idea (reality) of eternal summer and endless beach seasons, the fixed twelve hours of sunlight and the careless life without weather forecast. Not long after leaving my home, I found a prince, who offered love, devotion and joint sovereignty over legions of spaceships and action figures of different universes. He warned me, though, that his castle was situated in a cold region up north, but he also assured me I would find the things I wanted there with him, so I put the flip-flops on a bag and geared up for the white winter I only knew from books and movies. While my feet were bound by the heavy footwear, the wings on my shoulders went from a wish to a reality as I finally traded what was left of the princess and the ancient kingdom for the wonderful anonymity of a social security number and a blue piece of paper that confirms the authorization to use the wings at will.