Hey!
Yeah, you.
So I've taken on the real-life-social-experimental-adventure of moving to a city where I've gotten the chance to start at "Go" with some odds already stacked up against me.
First off, lets define a recent addition to our repertory of language.
That word would be: Xenophobic
That definition: an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners or strangers or of that which is foreign or strange.
OK, so I know that this sort of outlook did/does/shall exist, but never did I imagine that on any given day, there would be a 3/4 chance of observing this phenomenon up close and personal;
oh no, not to me, not in this town.
No longer would I take for granted that the arduous attempt of conjuring up a second language would elicit curiosity, warmth, engagement;
oh no, not to me, not in this town...not in this country...not in this language.
And so, without presupposition,
I feel no longer like voyageur;
no longer like wanderer;
I feel now, in fact, that which can be defined only as, with all resounding stereotype, that word which is:
immigrant
1. A person who leaves one country to settle permanently in another.
2. A plant or animal that establishes itself in an area where it previously did not exist.
Native Country,
Oxymoronic Province,
Motherfuckin Mini-Paris of America
I love it.
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