Skip to main content

Featured

the immigrant and the exile

The expatriate remains patriotic - loving their country from a distance. Their loyalty does not waver.

The immigrant is a foreigner that works in another country as a result of some form of escape, some desperate act.

The exile does not love their country, and it can be said that their country rejected them.

Which one wakes up homesick?

Which one can shrug off the betrayal, the long shadow of the dream of a better life when it sours and fades?

There are days when  I see no difference between the immigrant and the exile, two sides of the same coin. The expat is a blind romantic, their decisions set as young men and women, their senses dulled to nothing. I have started to understand I am not an expat any more, as I do not love my country. I tolerate it.

impossible


The sun does not seem real in Moscow. I can't believe it comes up so early. The green grass and the trees bursting with leaves overnight are all fake. There are tiny oceans of tulips bobbing in the breeze that I know were not there yesterday. They were planted in the middle of the night.

Sparrows are chirping, dancing around rain puddles. I push E on the swings for a long time. She seems taller than she was a week ago, her face longer, her hand larger in mine. She did not write any stories when I was away, but made a lot of drawings of girls sitting in restaurants.



I know we were in Rome, then Florence, then orange green Bologna and a day half-rainy, half-sunny in Venice. I remember the people staring out of windows, or waiting on quiet corners. I remember waitresses, and busy kitchens glimpsed from the street. There were acres of statues and museums that we ignored, concentrating on espresso cups, fixated on bitter apertifs and cold glasses of wine.


I emptied my pockets of lucky pennies, throwing them in every fountain we passed. 
I know there was a flight, and my ears got plugged up. I know we came back in the middle of the night and curled up in bed and I took E the next day. 
The rest is impossible. 







Comments

liv said…
Wow, Italy looks beautiful. Great photos.

Hope the writing went well.
SHAR said…
Really really fabulous photo's Marco, great to see them.....

Popular Posts

best personal blogs
best personal blogs