I’m writing on the train, and on the train, I’m experiencing several migrations at the same time: there’s the actual train trip, and then there’s the internal journey in my thoughts, and in those of someone else while turning the pages of a book, accompanied by other passengers…
I think about the Josefa House and it is also a place which offers multiple migrations. It is a crossroads that promotes the sharing of
an emotion,
a meal,
a glance
in the doorway
a day
in the kitchen, our kitchen, my kitchen
a cup or a gourd of maté
in a lounge
a story, with a few words in Arabic, in French or in English
a prayer for some
a song for others
a few oud notes
a smile or giggle
joy
on a Monday night
unexpected meetings
hospitality
a ray of sunshine
in the garden.
Maïté
