The Lonely Ones (1935) by Edvard Munch
“In traditional societies, everything that made sense of the world was real; the surrounding chaos existed and was threatening, but it was threatening because it was unreal. Without a home at the center of the real, one was not only shelterless, but also lost in non-being, in unreality. Without a home everything was fragmentation…
When the Atlantic Ocean swelled on the night of October 29th, the winds of Hurricane Sandy pummeled through the eastern seaboard, moving from Florida to Maine, leaving at least 72 dead, and unimaginable destruction in its wake. It has been five months since that night in which Javier Morán, José Parra, and Felipa Campos, three of countless undocumented immigrants, lost their home to the floods of the storm.
Eduardo Resendiz, 22, is eager for the elections to be over. If Obama wins, he could legally work in the America. (JIKA GONZALEZ/The Bronx Ink)
Maria arrived to the United States when she was only 2 years old. She has lived in White Plains, New York for most of her life, and while she considers herself to be an American, she is still an undocumented immigrant under U.S. law.
Maria works as a tattoo artist at La Tinta de la Santa Muerte, a tattoo and piercing shop that she runs with her family.
"Are things still good there?” a man asks. “At least they are better than here,” Eraldo responds as he prepares for his third venture to the United States. Eraldo Pacheco, a Chilean shepherd, is starting a contract to work as a sheepherder in the plains of Idaho for the next three years.
A while back I had the privilege of meeting Patricio, an immigrant worker from Ecuador. He worked at a pizzeria in Sunset Park, a largely Hispanic neighborhood in Brooklyn.
Patricio was kind enough to share his story with me. He told me about his journey from Ecuador and how he crossed the Mexico-US border, about being deported more than once before reaching his destination, and about the thought of never going back home.
BEIJING - Last month I went to the local police station to register again. Just like the last time, as the officer typed in my information I glanced around, and wondered about the binder with the label “学习天安门（study Tiananmen)”. When you fly to China, they give you a little card saying those foreigners not staying in a hotel are supposed to register within 24 hours of arriving in China. I haven’t always quite done that.