Ashley David

My Polish residency officially expired yesterday, and I mourn its passing. Nevermind that my non-renewal of this residency status was due to pressing US concerns and according to original plan.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever said, “Holster your weapon,” and meant it because someone was aiming a loaded handgun at you, cocked and ready to fire?

To commemorate the 71st anniversary of the Jewish Ghetto Uprising on April 19th, the daffodil was invoked to transform the yellow badge Jews were required to wear during the Nazi occupation into a symbol to “ express your respect and memory of the heroes from the Warsaw Ghetto.”

And so it arrives. The moment when the long-haul traveler realizes that she could be from the place she currently lives.

Philip Seymour Hoffman, Honza Zamojski, Alexander Calder, the La Brea Tar Pits.

At 6 AM, stress percolates in urban and suburban landscapes on par with coffee.

And just now, this man in somewhat dirty jeans, unshaven for days, and with a stack of papers that did not look like religious leaflets but like the notebooks I have kept with me for years. Writing notebooks, dog-eared and rough on the edges from constant carry. “Chora” he says. “Chora.”

When sticking it out reaches mission-critical proportions of unmanageableness.