Abstract Word: Immigration & Expats

Abstract Word is a version of field notes on what I notice, overhear, or find interesting.

Thu Mars 13

i.

A trail of a tear falls into the crater of a brown cheek - separating, and filling up the pockmarks like a small basin. A young woman looks out the window. The sun begins to leave shadows against the windows. Her eyes evert the group. Sitting in front of her is a circle of foreigners watching. Her hands clasp the paper below her with tension.

Ayeshia, can you try again?

Our professor shifts the knot of her scarf around her neck. She coughs.

Ayeshia, a young African woman, shakes her head. This time her left drops a tear. Her dark hands swipe it away. Her fingers lay on her face; squeezing her cheeks. Her finger rests on the pockmarks.

Ayeshia

She unclenches the paper. Murmurs.

“J'ai vu le loup, le renard, le lièvre”

The “r” catches in her throat. Blocking her progress. Her head falls in front of us. The lace of the wig is a bleached pigment.

Thanks for trying Ayeshia.

I didn't see Ayeshia again as I dropped the class.

Elena Gual, Yves Klein Blue, 2022, Gallery Red

ii.

Sirens zoom past the train. Le gens watch. Across the street of Saint-Ouen is heavily populated with Africans, Arabs, and Eastern Europeans.

The colorful clothing, calls for children, and fish bartering move along the market. At the end of the corner sits an old woman hunched over her knees on the gravel.

iii.

“We just moved in together”

A friend sits huddled in a group at (insert coffee shop)

Conversation spilled over SZA’s 30 for 30.

Stories of navigating school, the latest hook-ups, job search, American politics, and the language.

“My residency was just renewed for the next 4 years!”

Stamped, sorted, spoken for.