manhattan

back at home We stepped onto American “soil” via the maze-like immigration lines that seemed to form into one in some parts. I had to stand in line with everyone, people with Canadian passports and others who needed a visa to get in. It seemed like that was the very first sign of a new nation that I was from. One where we were all looked at the same, but just a very thin slip of paper is what distinguished “us versus them” -and though this is something that made me a bit confused about the country now trusting me, a former government official, I was perfectly fine with standing in the line with others who didn’t have the slip of paper. “Ma’am, we’re...